


A Study in Hospitality

by QuickYoke



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Twelve Gods of Olympus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21543382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickYoke/pseuds/QuickYoke
Summary: There's a new student at camp half-blood. Hilda, daughter of Aphrodite, has been tasked with showing her around.A Percy Jackson and the Olympians AU.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund & Hilda Valentine Goneril, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 107
Kudos: 493





	1. Chapter 1

> _“The assignment was to fall in love._
> 
> _The details were up to you.”_
> 
> _\- Louise Gluck, ‘Averno’_

* * *

* * *

Everyone was always excited whenever a new batch of half-bloods rolled into camp. Not that many of them would admit it, Hilda included. Mostly they pretended to be bored at the concept of introducing new students to the grounds, in the hopes that they would come off as cool and aloof.

Unlike the others however, Hilda didn't have to try very hard. She could pull off cool any time, any day. And everyone knew it. 

So, when a sleek black limousine rolled up, students idled around the camp's main square in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the new blood. The windows of the car were darkly tinted, which meant that nobody could get a good look inside. Honestly, it looked more like a hearse than anything else.

Hilda leaned against a pillar, and twirled a lock of shockingly pink hair around one finger. She arched a curious eyebrow at the limo as it rumbled to a halt with a high whine of brakes. 

It could use some new brake fluid. Technically speaking she could do it, but she wouldn't be caught dead beneath the hood of a vehicle. She had an image to uphold. Not to mention the havoc it would wreak on her manicure.

"My money is on Ares," Claude said beside her. 

Hilda rolled her eyes. "You say that every time."

"Because I'm right."

"I hope not. The last thing we need is more meat-heads." Hilda scrunched up her nose at a few other students loitering nearby, who were all clearly in Ares Cabin. One of them was challenging another to do push-ups. Hilda watched as the challenge was accepted with gusto.

Shirts came off, and the two boys dropped to the grass of the central field. For all their faults, at least the children of Ares had some rockin' bods. 

Claude nudged her, and she dragged her reluctant attention away from the Ares boys.

The driver had stepped out of the vehicle. An honest to god butler-looking guy, complete with waistcoat and spotless white gloves. He rushed to one of the passenger doors, and opened it.

An old man unfolded from the bone-white leather seats inside. His suit was ashen but impeccable and pinstriped. He had dark skin, silver hair and a hatchet face. When he stood to his full spindly height, he seemed to loom despite his heron's stoop and the silver-headed cane clutched in his hand. 

He was no god -- at least none that Hilda recognised -- though he could not have been fully mortal. Mortals couldn’t cross the camp lines. 

Seteth stepped forward. When he nodded his head, it was like a bow of deference. "Margrave Edmund, thank you for joining us. You are most welcome here. I will look after your daughter personally."

Hilda and Claude exchanged puzzled glances. Generally Seteth preferred a more hands off approach, letting professors Hanneman and Manuela take charge of lectures and whatnot. Seteth only ever dealt with individual students for special cases. Like delivering punishments, or handing out missions.

The Margrave had eyes like pale and tarnished coins. He bowed his head in return. "Thank you, Cichol. I entrust her to your care."

A strange shiver ran through the earth at the sound of Seteth's true Titan name. Seteth himself seemed unperturbed by the casual use of it. Meanwhile Hilda was left wondering how the hell this guy -- fancy titles or no -- managed to get away with using that name without being struck down by spears of light from the heavens.

"What daughter?" Hilda whispered.

Even as she spoke, another figure stirred within the shadows of the limousine. A girl stepped from the vehicle after her father. Hilda blinked in surprise. Most newcomers were young. They tended to be anywhere between ten and fifteen years of age, when they first arrived at camp half-blood. But this girl could not have been under the age of twenty, or Hilda would eat crow.

She was tall, thin, and gaunt as a blade. She wore a dark dress that made her dark eyes appear even larger and more lustrous. There was an odd quality to her pale hair, like the sheen of blued steel. Hilda might have thought it were dyed, if this girl didn't look like the least likely candidate for hair dyeing. Her skin held a pallor as though she rarely saw the sun, and she seemed to shrink away from the bright early afternoon light. 

The driver pulled a black suitcase from the boot of the limo, and deposited it at her feet. When he got a bit too close to her, she shied away from him. She tried to mask it as though she were reaching up to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. It did little to help her overall bedraggled personal appearance. Next to her sleek half-mortal father, she appeared disheveled, and not in an artful way. Honestly, Hilda probably could have tied a better messy bun in her sleep. 

Claude leaned over and whispered to Hilda, “My bet is rich heiress of old money.”

“Hmm…” Hilda took a moment to consider her best guess. “I’m going to go with: orphan adopted by screwball philanthropist.”

“Twenty bucks?”

“Oh, you’re on, pretty boy.”

They shook hands. 

"Marianne," Seteth said with another of his pseudo-bows, "It is lovely to meet you. Please, if there's anything I can do to improve your stay, let me know."

For a moment she said nothing. She seemed afraid that Seteth was going to bite her or something. When she did finally speak, her voice was soft and tremulous. "Thank you.”

After speaking, she looked to Margrave Edmund as if for confirmation that she had said the right thing. He gave her none. Indeed, he did not so much as put his hand on her shoulder for comfort before nodding towards Seteth and folding himself back up into the limo. 

The driver -- butler? whatever -- shut the door behind him, then trotted around to his own door. Marianne did not turn to watch the limo go, though at one point her dark eyes flickered in the direction of the dust plumes that rose in its wake. Immediately however, Marianne lowered her gaze to her own feet. 

When the limo had gone from sight, Seteth gestured towards the suitcase. “Allow me.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll take it.” Marianne picked up the bag before Seteth could even reach for it. She spoke so softly, it was difficult to hear her over the raucous noise of the nearby Ares boys. 

Claude hummed a contemplative note under his breath. “Either the heiress has something in that bag she doesn’t want anyone to see, or she isn’t as pampered as I’d originally thought.”

Hilda shot him a dirty look. “Why do you always think someone is hiding something?"

"Because they usually are."

"Well, newsflash, but it reflects poorly on your own character. Just - y’know - an FYI."

He shushed her, craning his neck as though it would help him better overhear what was going on further down the field. Seteth was leading Marianne across the centre of the field, the exact opposite direction from cabin eleven. 

“Not an undetermined, then,” Claude muttered to himself. “Aphrodite?”

At the sound of her own mother, Hilda snorted. _“Aphrodite?_ Not likely. Look at her, and then look at me.”

“Alright, point taken. So, Athena, then.”

“I dunno,” Hilda tongued at the inside of her cheek. “She seems a bit dreary, even for the Athena kids.”

Hilda and Claude watched from beneath the shelter of decorative white-marble pillars, as Seteth led Marianne across the field. A number of other curious faces also turned to follow their path, eager to learn of where this newcomer fell into their ranks. 

Seteth stopped before the Demeter cabin, and knocked on the door. 

“Wait, really?” Claude said. "She doesn't seem like a child of Demeter."

"Wow. Prejudiced, much?"

Claude pointed towards a small cluster of the Demeter kids that had emerged from the cabin to greet their newest member. "Just look at them. And then look at her."

Hilda pursed her lips at having her own words thrown back at her. But she had to admit, he had a point. She didn't tell him that, though. His head wouldn't fit on his shoulders otherwise. Children of Apollo were almost always predisposed towards a certain cocky arrogance, and he had it in spades.

But the new girl definitely didn't look anything like the other children of Demeter. Where Marianne was narrow and gaunt, the Demeter kids were homey and apple-cheeked. When Mercedes, the head of Demeter cabin, stood beside Marianne, the contrast could not have been more stark. Mercedes held out her hand to shake, but Marianne backed away a step as if the thought of being touched repulsed her. 

Claude gave a sympathetic wince. “Oooh, chilly.” 

"Okay, okay if you’re so sure that she's undetermined, then why doesn't Seteth just put her in with the Hermes kids like all the others?" Hilda asked.

"I don't know," Claude mused. He had that look on his face he always got when he stumbled across a particularly convoluted puzzle. “But I intend to find out.”

Hilda patted him on the shoulder. “Well, good luck with that.”

When she turned to walk away, intent on heading back towards the arts and crafts centre to work on her latest jewelry piece, Claude called after her. “Wait -? You really don’t care about getting to the bottom of this?”

“Nope!” Without looking back, she waved at him. “Later!”

* * *

Before the day could end -- heck, even before dinner -- Hilda ran into Seteth on the path between the mess hall and the cabins. She only caught sight of him at the last second as she was rounding the bend and humming to herself, when it was far too late to leap into the bushes and hide. Just her luck. 

Raising her hand, Hilda greeted him with a cheeriness that was way too over the top. “Oh, Seteth! Good day to you, and farewell!”

And with that, she turned heel and began power walking in the opposite direction. Screw dinner. She could sneak into the dining pavilion later. 

“Just a moment, Hilda. How are you feeling?”

With a low groan, Hilda stopped in her tracks. She closed her eyes, and took a moment to gather herself before she could turn back towards him with a forced smile on her face. “Oh! Ah, fine! I’m - I’m doing just fine. Thank you so much for asking!”

His eyes were a piercing green. He never seemed to need to blink. “Is that so? I’d heard you had fallen ill to a headache, and one of your fellow colleagues took over your duties of sweeping the armoury for the day. How thoughtful of them.” 

“Well, you know how it is.” Hilda rocked back and forth between heel and toe. “My friends are just so kind and helpful like that.”

“Indeed. You should count your blessings that you have been so favoured.” His stare bore into her as though he were balancing her very spirit on the bronzed edge of a sword. 

“Oh, I do! I - uh - I definitely do. Count. Every day.” A nervous little laugh escaped her at that. She could hear her voice strain slightly beneath the charmspeak laced into her words. She never could refrain from a bit of hypnotism when she was angry or nervous. It was a bad habit from her younger days. 

Of course, it did nothing to Seteth. The magic washed over him like water from a duck’s back. “Excellent. I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “In fact, now that I know you have recovered, I have an assignment for you.”

Hilda’s heart skipped a beat. An assignment? She hadn’t been given an assignment in, like, _years._

Okay. Maybe it had only been six months. But that was forever ago. This camp was only so big, and even if she wasn’t a year-rounder, she was so _bored._

She immediately brightened. “Well, why didn’t you say so! Let’s hear it, then.”

Seteth’s hands were clasped behind his back in an officious pose. He looked like a statue. One of those stiff Egyptian ones. “I take it you, along with the rest of the camp, have heard about the newest addition to our ranks? Marianne von Edmund?”

“Yes,” Hilda said slowly, wondering if this was some sort of trick question. “Is she going to be joining me on the mission or something?” 

“Hardly. Marianne doesn’t know anybody here, and I need you to do what you do best.”

“Which is -?” Hilda made a gesture with her hands, implying that Seteth should expand upon that topic. She was very good at a great many things. He was going to need to be a bit more specific. 

“Befriend her, of course,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. She frowned in puzzlement. "What? Why me?"

"Because you are one of the camp’s most senior students -”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“- And because you know everyone, and everyone knows you. Which means that you can be a conduit for her to the rest of the camp. Introduce her to others. Make her feel at home."

"Uhhhh everyone knows you, too. Why can't _you_ show her around?"

Seteth’s brows drew down. “I am the camp overseer. I have many duties to attend to, and while I hate to admit it, I cannot be everywhere at once. I am asking you to do this because I know you are the most capable for the job.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to expect too much from me?”

“At least once more.” Something like the faintest hint of a smile touched the corners of Seteth’s mouth before vanishing once again. “Truth be told, I have always harboured high hopes for you. Especially after having trained your brother.”

It was true. Holst used to be the head of Aphrodite cabin. Everyone expected Hilda to do the same, which is exactly why she didn't. 

Head of a Cabin? Yikes. Way too much responsibility. 

Hilda made a face. “No, thank you. And why can’t Mercedes have this assignment? She’s the head of Demeter cabin. She’s the one who should be showing her newbie the ropes.”

"It is important that Marianne is made to feel at home here. Unless you would like to excuse yourself from the sacred duties of hospitality?"

At that, Hilda's blood ran cold. If there was one thing you did not mess with, it was _xenia_ , the sacred concept of hospitality. She’d heard stories of those who broke the rules of hospitality, and she rather liked keeping her organs arranged in the way they currently were, thanks. 

With a huff, Hilda crossed her arms and accepted her fate. “Ugh. _Fine._ Whatever.”

"You are disappointed," Seteth said. It was not a question.

"Well, yeah," Hilda mumbled. She scraped the toe of her shoe against the ground, sketching out a misshapen heart in the dirt. "When you said ‘assignment,’ I thought you meant with, like, weapons. And monsters. And going out there." 

She gestured towards the treeline in the West, which demarcated the camp from the rest of the world. 

Seteth looked in the direction indicated with a heavy, thoughtful expression. "Trust me when I tell you, Hilda, that this assignment is the most important you will receive during your time here."

Hilda snorted. “What? Showing around The Marquise Mopey?”

At that, Seteth’s eyes flashed. He looked at her, and she paled. In his face she could see the blood-drenched earth, the frenzied clash of spear and shield from time immemorial. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was not in fact the soft-spoken gentleman façade he wore, but one of the five Kouretes. Ancient, Titan-born, and brother of the Furies. A deity of wild mountainsides, an inventor of rustic arts, the first of the armoured warrior-gods.

His voice was soft yet dangerous; it bore the weight of millenia when he spoke, “If I hear that you have been anything but kind and generous to our guest, you will answer to me personally. Do you understand?”

Hilda held up her hands as if to fend off a physical blow. “Woah! Relax. I wasn’t going to be all mean girls towards her, or anything. I love making friends!"

In an instant, the intensity faded from his gaze as though it had never been, though the air around him still seemed too warm. Or perhaps that was just the early summer heat. "Good. Then you'll have no issue attending dinner with her."

"Wait, you mean, like, right now?"

He arched a cool eyebrow at her. "Is that a problem?"

"What? No! Not at all! I'm going to crush this assignment. You'll see. I'm hospitality incarnate." Hilda ran a hand through her hair, and lifted her chin. "Hell, I’m the most charming person in this place! How hard can it be?”

* * *

As it turned out, it was hard. Very hard. 

For starters, Marianne was difficult to even track down. Hilda looked everywhere. Demeter Cabin was empty, but for Ashe, who was watering the plants out front even though he could make them grow just by snapping his fingers. He claimed Marianne hadn’t spoken more than two words to him since her arrival, before she promptly vanished like smoke. The last he heard, Mercedes and Seteth had been giving her a tour of the camp.

It took Hilda over an hour to find her. By the end, she had given up on asking people if they had seen a tall, morose newcomer since her arrival, because nobody had. Not a single soul. It wasn’t until Hilda had well and truly given up -- honestly, screw this; she was hungry and it was dinner time -- that she spotted her. Hilda was emerging from the armoury, having given up all hope, when she blinked. 

There, wandering at the edge of the forest, was Marianne. The dark blue of her long dress blended into the shadows of the woods. She looked like a lost spirit, the setting sun chasing her footsteps but never truly reaching her. As though the light were afraid to touch even the delicate gold embroidery of her hems. 

Hilda lifted her hands to her mouth, and yelled, “Hey! Hey, you by the forest!! Yeah, you!”

At the first sound of Hilda’s voice, Marianne had stopped. She pointed to herself, then looked over her shoulder, as though there were the off chance Hilda was actually addressing a tree behind her or something. 

“Don’t move! Just stay right there!” Hilda started jogging over, and boy if that wasn’t dedication then she didn’t know what was. These heels were _not_ made for running. Seteth had better give her such a good fucking score on this assignment. 

Hilda slid to a halt, nearly tripping as her heels caught on a loose stone in the ground. But she made the recovery as gracefully as she could manage. Which was super graceful. Divinely graceful, even. Well, semi-divine anyway. Close enough. 

Luckily, Marianne followed instructions. She had not moved. Now, she blinked languidly at Hilda, her expression guarded, her stance tense, as though she were ready to bolt at any sudden movements. 

Hilda pointed into the thick darkness of the forest. “You really shouldn’t go out into the forest alone. There are all sorts of monsters in there. Didn’t Seteth or Mercedes tell you that? Honestly!”

Marianne glanced towards the woods, but she seemed curious rather than afraid. “What kind of monsters?”

“I dunno. Minotaurs. Dragons. Hellhounds. All sorts.”

“Right,” Marianne said slowly. “And those...are bad?”

Hilda stared at her. “Yes. Yes, those are very bad.”

Marianne’s shoulders caved inwards as she seemed to shrink away from her. “Sorry."

Oh, _geesh_. As far as first exchanges went, they were off to a bad start. Shit. Dazzle time. 

“No, I’m sorry. I’m being very rude.” Hilda straightened to her full height, which barely reached Marianne’s chin even when Marianne slouched like she was now. Hilda smiled as brilliantly as she knew how -- which was Very Brilliant, let’s be honest -- and held out her hand. “I’m Hilda. You’re Marianne, right? Nice to meet you!”

“Oh. Um - Hello.” Marianne did not take her hand. Instead, she lifted her own to her chest, and gave a nervous flutter of her fingers before clenching her hand into a fist beneath her collarbone. 

A long moment of silence passed. Hilda lowered her hand. She tried to think of some way to break the ice, but each time a topic came to mind, it sloughed out of reach as though Marianne’s very presence rejected friendly conversation. Like trying to push together a set of repelling magnets.

It was the first time Hilda had ever been at a complete loss in a social situation. She wasn’t sure she liked it. 

Eventually, Marianne said, “I’m sorry. I’m not very good at interacting with people.”

“What? No! It’s fine. You’re fine,” Hilda lied. “I’m just glad I found you when I did. Next time you come out here, be sure to bring a friend. That’s all."

Marianne stared at her as though she were a hydra and had grown an extra head. "I don't have friends."

"Well, that's very rude of you. I’m right here, thank you very much." Hilda grinned, and brushed some of her long hair over one shoulder with a flounce. 

If anything Marianne appeared taken aback. Her head jerked as if she had been struck, and she looked Hilda over. "What -?"

"No, no, you don't need to say anything. A simple ‘thank you’ will suffice."

"Th - Thank you?"

"You're very welcome. Hey. It's dinner time. Want to walk with me to the dining pavilion? I'll point out everyone to you, so you know names and stuff. Sound good?"

"Um -"

"Great. C'mon! It’s this way."

Gesturing for Marianne to follow, Hilda started walking in the direction of the dining pavilion. For a moment she heard no movement behind her. Then, hesitant footsteps. Marianne walked silently; Hilda could barely hear the rustle of leaves and the press of earth in every step. Hilda talked as they walked. She pointed out various landscapes and features, revealing hidden information about them that absolute squares like Seteth wouldn't have told their newest member.

"If you want a really good time," Hilda said as they strode along the pathway that followed the lake, "Take a dip in here at night."

"What monsters are in the lake at night?"

"Absolutely none. It's just fun!" Then Hilda amended, "Well, that's not strictly true. I mean, there are totally monsters living in there. But the point is that at night the water is still all warm from the day, so it’s really nice. Plus it's about the adventure of it, you know?"

That only seemed to puzzle Marianne all the more. Still, Hilda glanced over to find Marianne studying the lake with a faint gleam of curiosity in her eyes. 

Hilda winked. “I’ll take you out one night. It’ll be fun!”

Ducking her head, Marianne mumbled, “I’m not a very good swimmer.”

“No time like the present! Am I right?”

“I guess.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a great teacher. And I definitely won’t let you drown, or get eaten by a monster, or die, or - y’know -” Hilda shrugged. “- whatever. Because that’s what friends are for.”

To that, Marianne made no reply. She offered no further comments, allowing Hilda to carry the conversation all the way to the pavilion perched over the edge of the lake. Hilda was all too happy to do so; she filled up the silence with idle chatter. And yet, she never once got the impression that Marianne wasn’t listening. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

The sun was setting over the hills by the time they arrived at the pavilion. Their shadows lengthened along the ground. Hilda noticed but made no comment on how Marianne’s shadow was nearly twice as long as her own. Marianne was taller, after all. That must have been the reason why. 

The dining pavilion had not walls, only pillars lined with torches, but rain and wind never seemed to be able to get inside. Other students were already crowding the large tables that surrounded a central brazier bearing a bed of red-hot coals. Hilda stopped at the edge of the pavilion, and turned to Marianne. 

“Alright, first thing’s first. You can’t sit at another god’s table. That’s just the rules. So, you’ll be over there.” Hilda waved her hand towards the Demeter table, where Mercedes and Ashe were already seated. 

For some reason, that made Marianne shrink a bit more. She tugged at the ends of her long sleeves so that her hands were partially covered. The action reminded Hilda of a turtle trying to retract into its shell. “What if there’s nobody else in your Cabin?”

“Then you sit alone, unless you get special permission. It sucks. I know. But it’s only for meal times and sleeping. And luckily you and I don’t have to worry about that. Anyway, that brings us to our next point.” Hilda began to tick off names on her ringed fingers. "Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades Cabins are all empty. The Big Three haven't had kids in, like, centuries, because their kids are always too powerful and kind of a pain in the neck or whatever. Hera Cabin and Artemis Cabin are also empty because goddess of marriage and goddess of virgins. Don't like philandering, blah blah blah. You know the drill. Then we have the rest."

Hilda pointed out each group in turn throughout the mess hall. "You already know the Demeter kids, so I won't bother. There's Hermes Cabin over there. Wanderers and thieves and lost souls. Undetermined kids go there, too. Anna is their leader. She's the oldest student here. Don't take bets with her. You'll lose every time."

Hilda moved along to the next group. Two of them had their noses in books while eating. "Athena Cabin. Nerds. All of them. Edelgard's the boss there. Don't let her pretty face fool you; she's always calculating something behind the scenes. Or at least I always get that impression."

"Then there's the Apollo kids." Hilda waved at Claude, who had caught sight of her. "That's Claude. He sucked up the arrogance and charisma of all the other Apollo kids, but he's not a bad guy at heart."

"Next to them is Dionysus Cabin. Always check any food or drink they serve you. Enough said. There’s Hephaestus Cabin over there. Messy and creative. My people at heart if not by blood.” 

Hilda’s hand drifted towards the next table along, the largest of the bunch filled with rowdy teens and twenty-somethings all with more muscles than sense. "And of course Ares Cabin. Just a bunch of guys being dudes. Dudes being guys. And also Petra is there. She's pretty nice actually. Just don't get on her bad side. She loves a fight more than anyone else I know. And if anyone gives you any trouble, you tell me and I'll kick their asses for you. Got it?"

Marianne nodded, wide-eyed and attentive.

“Which leaves Aphrodite Cabin, full of the greatest people you'll ever meet, including -” Hilda gestured to herself with a stunning smile, “- yours truly."

At that, Marianne asked in a faint yet curious tone, "Are you the leader of Aphrodite Cabin?"

Hilda scrunched up her nose as though at a bad smell. "Gross. No way. I leave that job to Lorenz, thanks."

"Oh," Marianne ducked her head. "Sorry. I didn't mean to insult you, or -"

But Hilda waved her away. "Nah, you're fine. Don't worry about it. Let’s go grab some food. Oh! Before I forget.” Hilda pointed out the central firepit. “Remember to leave a bit of your food, so you can offer it to the gods after we eat. Very important. Don’t skip that step.”

Marianne nodded solemnly. Then again, solemn just seemed to be her natural state of being.

“Okay! See you later, then!” And with that, Hilda flounced off towards her own table.

Behind her, Marianne floundered for a moment, before drifting over towards the other Demeter kids, who greeted her with smiles. Hilda watched as Marianne did not return them, just sat as far away from the others, so that she was perched on the very corner of the bench. 

This was going to be a lot harder than Hilda had originally thought.

With a resigned sigh, Hilda tucked into her own meal. No sooner had she picked up her knife and fork however, than she felt something soft smack into the back of her head. A rolled up napkin landed on the table by her elbow.

Hilda looked at Sylvain, who was sitting directly opposite her. “Don’t tell me. It’s Claude, isn’t it?”

Sylvain grinned around his fork, pulling the utensil out of his mouth to answer, “Well, if you want a break from the guy, I’m always free.”

“Funny,” Hilda replied in a complete monotone. She twisted around in her seat. Sure enough, Claude was trying to catch her eye.

He lobbed something else towards her. This time, it was a little origami paper airplane with a wedge-like arrow shape. It flew straight and true, landing directly by Hilda’s plate. Groaning, Hilda unfolded the paper and read its contents. 

_‘I thought you said you weren’t interested in the newblood?’_

“Do you have a pen?” Hilda held out her hand towards Sylvain.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he handed her a tube of unused lipstick. She arched an eyebrow at him.

Sylvain shrugged. “It’s all I’ve got. Take it or leave it.”

Shrugging, Hilda uncapped the tube, gave its base a twist, and wrote her reply in bold scarlet. “Who even uses this shade?” she muttered under her breath. “I mean, I could totally pull it off, but -”

Sylvain had returned to his meal, but he said firmly, “I want it back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” 

Hilda finished. She capped the lipstick and handed it back over to Sylvain. Then, she turned to toss the paper airplane back towards Claude. Whatever magic he had infused in it while folding its edges still remained, for it ducked and dipped around other students right for him like a bird in flight. Hilda did not wait to see his reaction to her reply, which read:

_‘Seteth asked me to look after her. And no, I won’t help you with whatever you’re planning.’_

She was a few bites into her meal, when the airplane returned. She crumpled it into a ball, and chucked it into the brazier, where it burned. Behind her, Hilda could hear Claude’s sound of outrage. Sylvain snickered into his cup. 

From where Hilda sat, Marianne was just within view. Her slouched shoulders, her head bowed. Hilda watched with mild interest, as other students at her table attempted to engage her in conversation. Even those from other tables who were near enough tried to lean over and introduce themselves. They were all rebuffed. One by one. Without fail. 

Eventually, Marianne had finished with her meal. Or perhaps she was simply finished with being in so crowded a space. She was a slow eater, but she was one of the first to rise from her seat. She picked morosely at her food, as though everything tasted like ash. And when she approached the brazier in the centre of the tables, her plate was still mostly full. 

Marianne scraped her food into the brazier, and murmured something under her breath. The coals leapt to life with a dull roar, like the sound of distant waves against the shore. The flames burned a hot, pale, hungry blue, searing the food to white ash. 

The entire dining pavilion fell silent. The clink of cutlery faded. People turned to stare. Marianne stood before the brazier, clutching her plate and knife, glancing around at all the stunned faces. She set the plate and knife down, then scurried from the pavilion, her head lowered.

After she had gone, people resumed their eating, but slowly. Over the heads of the other tables, Claude mouthed to Hilda: _‘What the fuck was that?’_

Hilda shrugged at him, and then pretended to ignore the rest of his gestures for the remainder of the night. 

* * *

Hilda did not think about Marianne for the rest of the evening. She went back to the arts centre, and finished off a new bangle she had been working on for the last two weeks. Even then, she was not completely satisfied with it, and tossed it back into the forge for one of the Hephaestus kids to re-smelt into something. 

After giving up on that piece, Hilda went back to the drawing board. She pulled out a notebook and pencil, and began sketching out ideas for a brooch. Or maybe a hair pin. It could have been either. The forge blazed on the other side of the room. This area of camp was always populated, even in the earliest hours of the morning or the latest hours at night. Someone could always be found tinkering away on something. And tonight that person was Hilda.

She eventually wandered back to her cabin, but only when the designs all started bleeding together. Rubbing at her eyes with a yawn, she went about washing her face, changing her clothes, and crawling into the top bunk that had been assigned to her years ago. She could hear Sylvain snoring on the opposite side of the cabin, and was tempted to throw a pillow at him to get him to roll over. 

At some point, she had fallen asleep. The next thing she knew, a pinkish light was filtering through the tinted windows right into her face. To make things worse, Lorenz was swanning about, handing out that week’s chore list to everyone. 

He reached her bunk bed. “Hilda.”

Hilda pulled a pillow over her head, and rolled over.

Lorenz circled around to the other side of the bunk bed, so he could wave her chore list in her face. “I know you’re awake.”

“No, I’m not,” Hilda groaned, her voice muffled beneath the pillow.

He swatted at her pillow with the folded up piece of paper, until she gave up and snatched it from his hand. 

“There,” he said smugly. “Was that really so hard?”

“Not all of us are up with the larks every morning,” Hilda grumbled, but he was already striding away to dish out everyone else’s responsibilities. 

Not bothering to sit up, Hilda hung her head over the side of the bed so that her long untidy hair fell over the side. She rubbed at one eye as she read over the week’s chores. 

Monday - 0900 to 1100 - Cooking Duties - Hilda Goneril and Marianne von Edmund

Tuesday - 1100 to 1430 - Pegasus Stable Duties - Hilda Goneril and Marianne von Edmund

Wednesday - 1500 to 1700 - Gardening Duties - Hilda Goneril and Marianne von Edmund

...Now, hang on just a damn second. 

Hilda rubbed at her other eye to make sure she was reading everything right. She frowned at the page, and held it a little closer to her face. 

Okay. She was definitely reading that right. Apparently hospitality homework extended to more than just a quick Intro to Camp 101. But really, Seteth didn’t have to go out of his way to pair them up for _everything._ It wasn’t like she was going to try to wriggle out of her assignment. That was just insulting. And completely untrue.

Hilda let her arm flop to the side, and the page of chores fluttered to the floor from her grip. She covered her eyes with her other hand, and groaned. Honestly this should've been the easiest assignment ever. If not for the fact that Marianne was so much _work._

“Is something the matter?” Lorenz asked from across the room.

“No,” Hilda sighed, dragging her hand down her face. “Everything’s just peachy.”

* * *

The first chore was cooking. Or rather, it was preparing lunch meals for a group of younger students going out into the forest for the first time with Manuela. 

It went poorly. Neither of them were very good in the kitchen. Which was odd, because Demeter kids were all great at cooking. It was one of their Things. Right alongside having a green thumb that would make an eighteenth century English landscaper cream himself. 

The food wasn’t disastrous, by any stretch of the imagination. They got the meals ready and packaged in time. But nothing tasted that great, and there was an awful lot of mess left over afterwards, which meant that Hilda moaned about having to clean up the whole time. All the while, Marianne remained silent, looking like she was at a loss on how to use a modern sink to wash the cutting boards. Like she’d been dumped into the present day from hundreds of years ago. 

Hilda did the bulk of the talking for the whole two hours. Every now and then, Marianne would make a noise, like a soft hum at the back of her throat, as if that were her sole form of contribution to the conversation. Once -- shockingly -- she even asked if Hilda could pass her a knife. When their fingers almost brushed along the handle, Marianne dropped the blade and stuttered on her apologies for two whole minutes. 

So, yeah. This assignment kind of sucked so far.

* * *

Monday passed without much incident. At ten minutes past eleven on Tuesday, Hilda wandered up to the pegasus stables for their shared chores. Marianne was already there. She had a handful of carrots, and was feeding one to a pegasus. The beast's head leaned out of his stall as far as he could go in an attempt to get closer to the source of the treats. 

"Don't be greedy," Marianne chided softly. Even so, she fed the pegasus another carrot.

"Heyoo," Hilda greeted. 

Marianne almost dropped the carrots in one hand. She turned to see Hilda striding towards her. "Oh. Good afternoon, Hilda. You're looking - uh - well."

"Thanks." Hilda did not even take offense to the belated attempt at praise. It was more than Marianne had been able to muster up over the last two days, which meant progress. Baby steps. They would get there. Eventually. Very eventually.

Stopping beside Marianne, Hilda nodded towards the pegasus, which was still chewing on the end of the carrot. "You're awfully good with them. Normally, they hate me."

The pegasus spoke while still chewing, his words punctuated with loud crunching noises. “I don’t _hate_ you. That’s quite a strong word. I’m indifferent about you.”

Hilda scowled. “That’s even worse, Grass-Head.” 

“My name,” the pegasus said in as acidic a tone as psychic words could convey, “is Minty.” 

Hilda rolled her eyes. “Oh, like that’s any better.”

“I like horses,” Marianne admitted. “My father used to let me ride his sometimes.”

At that, Minty stamped his hoof, which scraped against the stall door. “I would really appreciate it if you didn’t ride me. You smell like rotten eggs. But if you keep the carrots coming, I’ll let you pet me.”

“How generous,” Hilda drawled.

On the other hand Marianne hastily offered another carrot. Minty grabbed it between his teeth and began to chew, while Marianne reached up to pat his head and play with his silky forelock. 

Hilda gave her a sidelong glance. “So,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Your dad had horses?”

Marianne mulled over her words very carefully before responding. “Yes. Four of them. They didn’t talk, though.” 

“Did they still like carrots?”

“Uhm -” 

But Minty answered instead, “All horses love carrots.” He snuffled around Marianne’s hand, trying to reach the other bunch of carrots held there. 

“There are other pegasi here,” Hilda pointed out. Indeed, a number of other pegasi were watching this exchange from their own stalls, their heads eagerly extended above the doors.

“Ignore those guys,” Minty said. “They definitely don’t want these.”

“Greedy asshole,” Hilda muttered under her breath.

“I heard that.” 

“Whatever.” Hilda jerked her thumb over her shoulder, and said to Marianne, “I’m going to go grab some gloves, pitchforks, and a wheelbarrow. I would highly recommend wearing gloves, yourself.”

“Alright. I’ll come with you.” Marianne gave Minty one last carrot, taking the time to pat him on the head some more, before turning to follow Hilda. 

Marianne spoke a bit more today. Not much more, but a bit. The pegasi all took an interest in her, even if they generally did not want Marianne to touch them unless bribed with treats. They made odd comments about her smell, while remaining generally uninterested in Hilda’s presence entirely. 

Which was rather insulting, really. Hilda was not a person accustomed to being treated with indifference. And charmspeak did not work on pegasi like it did on people. Annoyingly. 

Hilda tried. She received a series of nickers that could only be described as amused in a mocking way. 

Afterwards, Hilda was sweaty and annoyed. She tipped a load of straw into the last stable, and raked it around, while Marianne chatted with the pegasus. If only it were that easy to get Marianne to talk to actual humans. Her sentences were still short and carefully combed of any personal information, but still. 

And at the end of it all, Marianne even offered Hilda a little wave and a hesitant, “See you tomorrow,” before they parted ways for the day. 

Leaning on a pitchfork, Hilda watched her go. “Weird,” she muttered under her breath, when she was sure Marianne was out of earshot.

“Yeah,” Minty said from behind her. “You’re telling me.”

* * *

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Hilda was just about ready to bail on chores entirely. Honestly, it was a miracle she’d made it this far in the first place. She should have been awarded gold stars for exceeding all expectations. Normally she would have weasled her way out of the week’s responsibilities by Tuesday. 

Not that it had anything to do with Marianne. Because it didn’t. Hilda just hated chores. She had a jewelry project she wanted to work on, some people she wanted to flirt with, and a monster hunt in the forest that sounded like way more fun than gardening. 

Plus, it was hot. The late afternoon sun was an unimpeded glaring yellow dot in the sky, and Hilda was boiling. She fanned herself with a pair of leather pruning gloves. Her eyes were shielded behind a pair of pink-lensed glasses, and her head was covered in a black-ribboned straw hat. 

Marianne stood beside her, hands nervously wringing another pair of gloves together. Whereas the sun glared down upon Hilda in full force, it somehow seemed to miss Marianne. As though she were sidestepping the light entirely. She still wore a dress with long sleeves, and long hems, and a high collar. 

“I honestly don’t know how you’re surviving in all that.”

Marianne blinked in confusion. “What?”

Hilda gestured with the gloves towards Marianne’s clothes. “Aren’t you baking?”

Plucking at her long hems, Marianne said, “No.”

Hilda blew a raspberry, and pulled her gloves on. “Lucky you. Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

An empty flower bed stretched along the ground at their feet. It skirted the edges of one of the main pathways between the cabins and the amphitheatre. The flower bed was narrow, but long, extending over a little hill and out of sight. Even looking at it made Hilda’s knees feel tired. 

She and Marianne had hauled a cart from the garden sheds, laden with trowels, liquid fertilizer, seed packets, and enormous quantities of small sprouting flowers. They had since unloaded all the flowers onto the path, ready to be planted over the next few hours. 

Hilda was picking up a trowel, when it suddenly struck her. She rounded on Marianne, excitement lacing her voice. "Hey, you're a Demeter kid! That means you're really good with plants and stuff, right?"

"Uhm -"

"Great! You can just -” Hilda wiggled her gloved fingers at the flower bed “- do that nature magic you guys are so good at, while I clean up. And we’ll be out of here in no time.”

“I don’t think -”

“Don’t worry,” Hilda said, already gathering up all the gardening supplies so that she could carry them back to the shed. She would make the trip in one go if it killed her. Only cowards had to make two trips. “Nobody will care, so long as everything is planted and growing properly. Besides, this way we can both get out early. Hey! I can take you to the lake for some swimming practice! Doesn’t that sound fun? Let’s do that.”

She didn’t give Marianne a chance to answer. She was already grabbing up the cart’s handle, and hauling it back over to the garden shed. 

The trip took a grand total of ten minutes. Feeling triumphant in her cleverness, Hilda sauntered back down the pathway. She was daydreaming about finally casting that new hair pin design in gold, when she rounded the corner, and froze. 

Marianne was kneeling on the ground. In a great circle around her, the seedlings had been arrayed. When Hilda had left, the plants had been green and bright. Now, the leaves and flowers were all black and wilted, and the earth around them dark as if scorched. Faint curls of smoke drifted through the air from the ground, and the smell was rancid. Like sulfur. 

“What -?” Hilda started to say, but she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. 

Marianne jerked to her feet, brushing off the hems of her dress with trembling hands. Before she could get a good look at Marianne’s face, Hilda turned, and found herself face to face with Mercedes, who looked between the two of them in astonishment. 

“Is everything alright?” Mercedes asked. Her eyes widened when she looked at the flowers at Marianne’s feet. “Goodness! What happened?”

"I -" Marianne's lower lip trembled. She looked to be on the verge of outright tears.

Before she could say anything, Hilda stepped forward. "It was my fault," Hilda insisted. "You know how I am. I thought I was spraying liquid fertilizer, but I'd accidentally grabbed that magic weed killer Ashe has been developing out in the sheds."

With a nod of her head, Mercedes hummed. “Yes, that does sound like it would do the trick.”

“I’m so _so_ sorry, Mercedes,” Hilda continued in her most wide-eyed, contrite tone. She smacked herself on the forehead with the palm of her hand. “I can’t believe I was so careless!”

Immediately, Mercedes placed her hands on Hilda’s upper arms, warm and comforting. “Oh, no! Don’t blame yourself! It was an honest mistake, I’m sure. It’s nothing we can’t fix.”

“You think so?” Hilda put a breathless quality into her voice to really sell it. There was no need for charmspeak here. It would probably work on Mercedes, but she didn’t need it. 

Mercedes nodded. “Absolutely.” 

“Thank you so much. You really are a life-saver, Mercedes.”

“No, no. It’s nothing. Helping is the least I can do.”

There were still the seed packets left over. They had escaped whatever magic that had blighted the area around Marianne. In Mercedes’ capable hands, it took a matter of minutes for the seeds to be scattered and growing all along the flowerbed. Still, a dead patch remained in one section of the flowerbed, where the seeds refused to grow, even beneath the force of Mercedes’ magical gifts. 

“How strange,” Mercedes mused, studying the patch with a quizzical tilt of her head. “The soil in this area feels odd. I don’t quite know how to describe it.”

If Marianne’s shoulders could hunch up around her ears any more, then her head would become a part of her chest cavity. 

Hilda tried to distract Mercedes. “You’re amazing,” she gushed. “I wish I had powers like that.”

It worked. Mercedes turned her attention away from the flower bed. “Don’t be silly. You have extraordinary powers yourself, Hilda.”

“Oh, no. Not like you, and the others. You’re incredible. Really.”

Throughout the entire exchange, Marianne remained silent. Her eyes were downcast. Something about the late afternoon light made them appear darker. 

It took another five or so minutes to convince Mercedes that they should part ways without carrying around any suspicions. By the end, Mercedes continued on her way towards the amphitheatre with a merry wave of farewell and a promise to more clearly label the experimental weed killer in the garden shed. 

When she had gone over the hill, leaving the two of them alone, Hilda breathed a sigh of relief. “Phew!” She took off her straw hat, and fanned herself with its wide brim. “That was lucky. Are you alright?”

“I’m - I’m sorry,” Marianne mumbled. She refused to meet Hilda’s gaze. “You shouldn’t have had to do - I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry.”

Before she could think to stop herself, Hilda reached out to place a hand on Marianne’s shoulder. But before she could touch her, Marianne recoiled. 

“Please, don’t,” Marianne gasped. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. She wiped at them with the backs of her hands, and staggered away a step. “Don’t touch me. Don’t -”

Hilda opened her mouth to speak, but Marianne had already turned tail and was stumbling away. She did not bother to take the path, and instead fled directly across the field. The ground in her wake bore dark blistering marks in the shape of her footprints, as though her every step were bleeding the earth dry. 

Hat in hand, Hilda stared after her. “What,” she muttered, _“the fuck?”_


	2. Chapter 2

"I heard about your little 'weed killer' accident." Claude made air quotes with his fingers. "Is that really the best you could do? Weed killer?"

Hilda was in the armoury. She was sharpening her favourite axe, which -- she had to admit -- was a brave moment for Claude to approach her. She slapped the power button to stop the wheel that spun the belt grinder, and tested the edge of the curved blade against the hair on her forearm. 

The hair didn't cut. The blade wasn't quite ready yet.

Lifting her personalised pink safety goggles away from her face, Hilda glanced over at Claude. "You know, it's funny you should ask about that, actually."

"Oh?" Claude leaned forward a bit. His eyes held a hungry gleam, the same he always got when he was curious about something that refused to immediately provide all its secrets.

"Yeah. I was just thinking about how it was none of your damn business."

Hilda slammed the goggles back into place, and flipped the switch to start the belt grinder again. Sparks flew as she expertly angled the blade of her axe against the grinder, making Claude jump back a step or risk singing his clothes.

Claude raised his voice slightly to be heard over the sound of grinding metal. “Oh, c’mon, Hilda! Weed killer? You really expect me to buy that?”

“Yup!”

“You have got to tell me. Not knowing is killing me.” 

“And you came to cry on _my_ shoulder? Wow. You must really be desperate.” 

“Well, where is she now?”

Hilda shrugged. She paused to dip the axe’s blade in water before continuing to grind. “No idea. I haven’t seen her for a few days.”

“I thought Seteth had arranged your schedules so that you two shared everything together.”

“Yeah, and she’s just bailed on the back end of this week. And you know what? I respect that.” Hilda stopped the belt grinder again. She tested the blade, and deemed it suitably sharp for hacking off monster limbs. 

Claude was leaning against a nearby wooden pillar. He played with an arrow from one of the legion of quivers that lined the walls. The shaft twirled easily between his fingers. “Won’t you even tell me about what exactly Seteth told you to do.”

With a much put-upon sigh, Hilda perched the safety goggles atop her head. She turned the axe over so that the head was firmly on the ground, and she rested her elbow against the pommel. “Fine. Since you’re being such a pain. I’m supposed to be hospitable, or whatever.” 

“Sure, sure.” He used the arrow to gesture towards the surrounding armoury. “Which is why you’re here. Leaving her all alone. Makes sense.”

Her mouth opened, but every witty retort died on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes narrowed. “Hang on. Did Seteth send you?”

Claude gave her one of his signature lopsided grins, and held up his hands in surrender. The arrow dangled between his fingers. “You caught me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” 

“He wants you to prep Marianne for next week’s lessons.”

“Did he at least say where she was?”

At that, Claude shrugged. 

Groaning dramatically, Hilda tossed her gloves and protective glasses onto the nearby work bench. She then hefted the axe in one hand. A press of her fingers against key points in the long engraved handle made the axe fold into itself until it had turned into a pair of pink sunglasses, which she then perched atop her nose. 

When she turned to leave, she paused. Claude was still watching her as she glanced over her shoulder. “Hey, Claude. Have you ever known a Demeter kid whose magic kills flowers? By accident, I mean.”

His expression did not change a whit, but something keen flashed in his eyes. He feigned thoughtful contemplation, then answered, “No."

“Yeah,” Hilda began striding away. “That’s what I thought, too.”

* * *

Of course, Marianne wasn't in Demeter Cabin. Hilda was beginning to think that Marianne never actually spent any time in her own damn cabin. Almost like she didn't feel at home there. It couldn't have been that the other Demeter kids were mean to her. They couldn't be mean to a fly. The idea that they could bully anyone, when they felt bad about saying something mean to plants -- like, really? _plants?_ \-- was laughable. 

But still. Regardless of why Marianne was never in Demeter Cabin, it was a pain in the ass. Hilda groaned, and stomped away. She checked the woods, the only place she had actually seen Marianne go to by choice. Which was weird in and of itself, because nobody liked the woods. They were dark, and damp, and literally crawling with monsters. Thankfully though, Marianne was not to be found there either. At least, not along the edges of it. 

And so it was that Hilda started the arduous task of working her way through every major site in camp half-blood. She interrogated the pegasi for a good ten minutes. Minty was particularly unhelpful, and told her that he had never heard of Marianne, which was clearly false. 

He did remember the carrots, though. Crystal clear memory of that. And did Hilda happen to have brought more perchance?

Fucking pegasi. Typical. 

As she was storming from one of the rear stalls however, a pair of quiet voices gave her pause. Quickly Hilda backpedalled, and hid behind the stall door.

“Did you bring the carrots I asked for?” Minty asked, sticking his head into her space.

“Fuck off,” Hilda hissed. 

“Wow. Rude. And in my own stall, too.”

She pushed his head away, and tried to listen to the voices drifting over from near the coach house, where the pegasi were draped in tack to carry chariots. When she peeked out to see if she could catch a glimpse, Hilda could just make out the slope of Seteth’s profile as he spoke to Marianne. 

“You are still struggling with your new environment, I see.”

“I’m sorry.”

Seteth sighed, “I know your childhood was sheltered. Your father enrolled you here because he wished you to understand what it was like to live among others. He tasked me with ensuring not just your safety and instruction, but also your personal development.” 

Marianne continued to hold her silence.

Seteth waited, then said, “I am talking about making friends.”

“I -” Hilda could hear Marianne swallow past an obstruction in her throat before she could speak. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Oh, _come on._ Even after Hilda had thrown her a friendship bone and everything? What more did a girl have to do? Write it out in a binding legal contract?

For a moment Seteth made no reply. Then he asked very softly, “Has anyone been -” he seemed to mull over the right word, _“- inhospitable_ towards you?”

At that, Hilda bristled with indignation. He may have not mentioned her by name, but he didn’t have to; she could tell from his tone alone that he was referring to her. 

_Inhospitable?_ As if!!

Marianne shook her head. “No. Everyone has been very kind.”

Hilda nodded along enthusiastically from her hiding spot, even though neither of them could see her.

“Hmm.” Seteth sounded like he did not believe her. “But if they weren’t, you would tell me?”

Silence.

“Marianne?”

“Yes,” Marianne said. 

“Good. That’s all I ask. Now, I shall leave you to your own devices. Remember to come to dinner this time, please. It is not good to skip meals, even for one such as yourself.”

Marianne gave no reply, but she must have given some indication -- Hilda could not see if she nodded from this angle -- for Seteth strode off in the direction of the armoury. He had to walk past her hiding spot, and she plastered herself against the wall. When she was sure he was gone, Hilda hesitantly leaned forward to peer out again.

“Oh! Hey, it’s that weird girl with the carrots!” Minty shoved his head and neck past Hilda to get a good look out the door, and in doing so he squished her against the wall even further. “Do you think she brought more?”

“If you step on my Loubotins, I will turn you into glue,” Hilda growled. Her sunglasses had been knocked askew on her face. 

“Your what?” Minty swung his head around, tilting it to look down. “Nice shoes, by the way. Very shiny.”

“Exactly.” 

She pushed him away, straightening her sunglasses and extracting herself from the stall. It took a great deal of skill to avoid any patches of pegasus dung on the ground. If Hilda had known she would’ve been hanging out in the stables today, she would’ve worn her work boots, which she had bought especially for these situations. 

Having successfully extracted herself from the stall without making a complete mess of everything, Hilda looked up. And Marianne had vanished. Poof. Like smoke. 

“Shit,” Hilda muttered. 

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” Minty said, not sounding sorry at all.

“No, not you!” 

Shooing him away, Hilda marched off towards Marianne’s last known location. The air smelled faintly rotten, but that may have just been pegasus droppings. It was difficult to tell.

She couldn’t have gotten far. Even by magical means. Magic had its limits, after all. Hilda individually tapped the high heels of each shoe against the dusty ground, frowning at a few smudges of stubborn dirt that required a bit more magic. Then, clean and fetching as ever, she set out once more. 

It made a bit more sense if Marianne was new to this whole demigod shtick. Some kids had a real rough time learning of what they were. Hilda wasn't one of those kids. Her older brother was a child of Aphrodite as well. Their father was something of a favourite of the goddess. Hilda had grown up knowing what she was, and how to use it.

For her, being a demigod was pretty damn great. And all those kids who struggled? Well, she was sympathetic, for sure. But she just couldn't relate.

Hilda found Marianne by the lake. She was sitting on a stretch of driftwood that looked like sun-bleached bone. Her elbows were tucked firmly into her sides, her hands clasped in her lap, watching a group of oreads and naiads playing. In her outdated formal attire, she looked like an antique doll that had been wound up with a spring-loaded mechanism.

Approaching on silent feet, Hilda waved a hand in front of Marianne's face and said in a sing-song tone, "Heyooo!"

Marianne started. She leaned away when Hilda plopped down on the log beside her. "Oh. It's you."

"You sound so enthusiastic to see me! I'm touched." Hilda placed a theatrical hand over her heart. She followed Marianne's gaze towards the group of nymphs. "They look like they're having a good time." 

“Yes. They do.” 

Marianne sounded a little wistful. On anyone else, the emotion would have been written clear as day across their face. Normally, Hilda could read people like an open book. But with Marianne, she had to really prise the book open. Like trying to read an old paperback when it was windy outside; the pages just kept trying to fold over one another until the book was shut. 

Good thing Hilda had the right kind of magic at her disposal. She didn’t know what Marianne must’ve looked like to everyone else. 

“You know,” Hilda drawled. She leaned back, and stretched her legs out before her. “I _did_ promise to take you for a swim.”

Marianne’s gaze snapped down to her own feet. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt them.”

“Oh, pffft. It’s a big lake. There’s enough room for two more people. At least.”

At that, Marianne’s eyes wandered once more towards the waterline, where the lake lapped up against the pebbly shore. “I don’t really have any appropriate swimwear.” 

A wave of relief swept through Hilda. She grinned. “Is that the problem? You should’ve said so sooner! We can totally get you some new clothes!” 

“Where?” 

Hilda leaned in closer and lowered her voice as if telling a secret. “I have my ways. Alright, so. Wardrobe.” Turning sideways so that she faced Marianne, Hilda held her hands pressed together beneath her chin. “I notice you wear a lot of dresses. Which is totally fine. In fact, you look great in them.”

Marianne seemed more confused by praise than anything else. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome. Anyway, my point is, this week has just been, like, orientation stuff and chores, but next week is when classes start. Do you happen to have anything -- anything at all -- that’s more, you know -” Hilda tilted her hands so that her fingers were all pointing towards Marianne’s current outfit, _“-_ _athletic?”_

Marianne mulled over the question for a moment. “I have a _chiton.”_

A chiton. Like, from honest to god Vogue 330BC.

“Oh, boy.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, Hilda said, “Okay. That’s fine. We can deal with that. We’ll just take you to the armoury. Two birds, one stone. And all that jazz.”

Marianne’s brows furrowed. “Why would the armoury have clothes?”

“It doesn’t. It’s just going to be our first stop. Right after you show me all the skeletons you have rattling around in your closet.”

At that, Marianne’s eyes widened. Her face, if it was at all possible, went even paler. “Wh - What? Why would you think I -? I don’t -!”

With a snort of laughter, Hilda rose to her feet. “It was a joke. Let’s head on over to Demeter Cabin. I want to see what sort of overhaul your wardrobe needs.”

It was a short trek to the cabins square. Marianne let Hilda do the knocking. She tried to hide behind Hilda despite the fact that it was her own damn cabin, while Hilda banged her fist against the ivy-clutched door. 

"Looks like nobody's home," Hilda said, when they received no response. She turned to Marianne, then gestured towards the door. "Would you do the honours?"

"Oh. Sure." 

Marianne reached past her, and grasped the door handle. The woodgrain darkened for an instant -- or maybe that was just the passage of a cloud between the sun and earth -- before the door creaked open. Hilda frowned down at the handle, but now it looked perfectly fine. 

"Huh."

"What's wrong?" Marianne asked. 

"Oh, nothing," Hilda said. She pushed the door open, and it swung inwards. "Though I don't know why I'm the one going first."

"Politeness?" Marianne said after a second of thought. 

"Nice try. But I'll buy it, I guess."

The inside of Demeter cabin was awash with sunlight. The wooden walls were overgrown with plants, and vines trailed from the rafters. The bunk beds grew from the floors. Bundles of herbs were hung to dry from the windowsills. Warmth wrapped up the space like a cosy fireplace in winter. It was like stepping into a cottage in another world after days of long hikes across the mountains. Hilda had the sudden urge to curl up with a cup of floral tea, and maybe sleep for a week. 

In other words, it could not have less resembled Marianne if it tried. 

When Marianne followed, stepping into the cabin after Hilda, the door shut on her heels like a dog snapping at her calves. She started, her shoulders hunching, but she tried to mask the motion by clearing her throat. 

"There was," Marianne said in the most unconvincing manner possible, "a - uh - breeze."

Hilda nodded slowly. "Right."

She had to internally remind herself that she was supposed to be hospitable. Accommodating. And also that she was supposed to be looking over a wardrobe, which was actually far more exciting a prospect. 

Hilda turned back to the cabin. "So, which station is yours? Let me guess." Closing one eye, she pointed a finger and trailed it around the room as if trying to lock onto a target. She stopped when she was pointing at a bed all the way in the back corner, shrouded in the only pool of shadows in the whole place. "It's that one."

"How could you tell?"

"I have a gift for these things," Hilda said dryly. 

She strode across the room until she reached Marianne's station. A chest of drawers leaned lopsidedly against the wall, and there was a bar for Marianne to hang some clothes out in the open. 

Hilda pointed at the chest of drawers before touching it. "Can I -?"

Sitting down on the edge of the bed as though unsure if it even belonged to her, Marianne nodded. 

Hilda opened drawers. She rummaged. She was very good at rummaging. At least, she normally was. In this instance however, there was very little to rummage through. 

A few stockings. Some old-timey pantaloon things. Was that a petticoat? At least that explained how Marianne's skirts always managed to maintain such excellent shape all the time. 

A few more sets of dresses were hung from the bar. Hilda pulled each back to get a better look at them. She had only seen Marianne wear two since her arrival. And always Marianne wore a gold pendant strung from a white ribbon around her neck. No other jewelry or accessories. Two of the other dresses were far more elaborate. Not in their cut -- they all made her look like an old Christian priest -- but in their fabric and embroidery. Heavy velvets with fine hands. Needlework in the richest gold that shimmered along every edge. Like she had expected to attend a ball, or an emperor's court. 

"Is this everything?" Hilda asked. She still held onto the edge of one of the fine gowns, stretching the hem of its skirt, which rippled like black water in the afternoon light. 

"Mostly." Marianne leaned over and pulled from beneath her pillow a set of pajamas which were an eggshell blue so pale they appeared almost white. 

Or, hang on. Not pajamas. A nightgown. With an ankle-length hem, and a lace collar, and sleeves gathered into loose ruffles at the wrist. 

Hilda let the dress drop. Its heavy velvet hems swung from its hanger. "Okay. I lied about the armoury being our second stop. We need to go next door _stat."_

"Alright?" 

Marianne appeared puzzled, but she rose to her feet, and followed Hilda from Demeter cabin. It was a hop, skip, and a jump over to Aphrodite Cabin, which only had Sylvain lazing about in it, pretending to be sleeping. Hilda swatted at him with a pillow until he -- and the girl hiding under his bed -- left. 

"There," Hilda tossed the pillow back onto Lorenz's bed, and walked over to her own bunk. "Now that we're alone, you can try on some of my stuff."

Marianne remained standing while Hilda pawed through her own dresser, which was literally overflowing with clothes. Shoes were piled up in a mountain beneath the bunk bed, and an additional series of bars had been strung up for the multiplication of raw _stuff_ in Hilda's wardrobe. 

Tossing various pieces of clothing across Lorenz's nearby bed without a care for his personal space -- he wasn't here; he wouldn't care unless he found out -- Hilda said, "You won't fit them perfectly, but it's better you have something for next week until I can get you some stuff in your own size. Try some of those on, and let's see how you go."

For a moment, there was silence behind her. Then, the gentle rustle of fabric. She could hear the slump of cloth to the ground, but did not look around until Marianne gently cleared her throat. 

Hilda turned. She cocked her head to one side and scrunched up her nose. On her, the black track pants and branded t-shirt combo were trendy in a casual kind of way -- she could make anything look good just by virtue of proximity to herself. On Marianne however, the track pants stopped well above her bare ankles. Marianne stooped and tugged at the hem of the t-shirt in an attempt to cover her stomach more. If she straightened to her full height, the barest glimpse of skin at her waist would have been visible. 

At least it would have, if not for the fact that Marianne had opted to wear an additional long-sleeved, high-collared turtleneck beneath the shirt. And she still wore that weird gold pendant over it as well. The entire effect made her appear gangly and out of place, like she had experienced a sudden growth-spurt. All knees and elbows. 

“It’ll just have to do for now,” Hilda sighed. She waved towards the small pile of clothes that she had accumulated on Lorenz’s bed. “Keep them. Wear them. Return them. Or don’t. Whatever.”

“Are you sure?” Marianne asked. She was still fiddling with the end of the shirt, twisting one of her hands in the fabric. 

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get some more clothes in for you late next week. Luckily, you’re on the blue team.”

“Why is that lucky?”

“Because you look great in blue. Also because that means we’re on the same side. I mean -” Hilda plucked at her own blouse. “I look way better in red, but that would require me to cooperate with the Ares boys. So, you know. Needs must.” 

“Could you please -?” Marianne made a twirling gesture with her fingers. 

“What?” Hilda blinked. Then it hit her. “Oh! Sorry! Yeah.”

She turned back around, and could hear the whisper of fabric against skin. She removed her sunglasses, and toyed with them. She polished the pink lenses on the edge of her blouse. It would only take a flick of her wrist to extend them into an axe once more. Which reminded her. 

“Hey, do you have a weapon?” Hilda asked, perching the sunglasses back upon her nose. She remained facing her own bunk bed and closet explosion across the ground. 

“I have a sword,” said Marianne.

“Oh, good! You can use that during training exercises and classes, then.”

“No.”

Hilda paused. She had to resist the urge to sneak a peek over her shoulder; it was so much easier to read people when she could actually look at them. And Marianne was hard enough to read with magic, let alone without visual cues. “No, as in: no, you are unable to use a sword? Or no, as in: no, you are unable to use _that_ sword?”

More shuffling and soft cloth noises. For a moment, the only reply was the creak of a floorboard as Marianne shifted her weight from foot to foot, until finally she admitted, “The second one. And you can turn around now.”

Hilda did so. Marianne was back in her own dress. Her hair was still a disaster of a messy bun. 

“Okay. Cool. Cool cool cool. We’ll just get you a different sword, then. Or maybe a scythe,” Hilda joked. “Just to make your mother proud.”

"My mother?" Marianne repeated, her brows screwing up in confusion. Then her eyes widened. "Oh! Yes. I mean - um - of course. Demeter. My mother."

Alright, that was just plain suspicious. And obvious. For being such a mystery, this girl sure was a really really bad liar.

Hilda feigned nonchalance. "And your father?"

"Oh, well, he's -" Marianne pointed to the ground beneath their feet, and Hilda's eyes widened in understanding.

"Sorry," Hilda said with a grimace. 

"It's alright."

"Who was that guy, then? The one that dropped you off in the limo?"

"Oh, him." Marianne wrung her hands together. "That was my adopted father. In a sense. It's complicated. He's a - well - a banker? Sort of. We don't really need the money, but he primarily handles loans during his day job. With - um - big stakes."

“Sure.”

So, Claude had been on the mark. She was a rich heiress. Ugh. He was going to be so insufferable when he found out. What a pain.

Wait. It also meant she was an orphan. Half-orphan. That counted, right? Did that mean they both won the betting pool? 

Marianne shuffled her feet nervously. As if on cue, something clinked to the ground. Hilda looked down. A few coins scattered around, fat and gold and gleaming, as though they had spilled from Marianne's pocket. Marianne flushed, her cheeks going pink. Quickly she crouched down, and began scraping together the coins from the ground. 

One of the coins rolled towards Hilda, coming to a halt by her feet. She bent down to pick it up, but hesitated before touching it, though she could not explain why. The coin seemed to resist her fingers, like it weighed far more than it should. Its face was worn smooth, as though from years of being rubbed by an anxious thumb in someone’s pocket. Upon it Hilda could just make out the emblem of a disfigured trident with only two prongs instead of three. When she turned the coin over, the other side bore the symbol of a cornucopia.

Or maybe it was a bearded face. Honestly, it was so time-worn she could barely tell. 

Hilda straightened. "You - uh - you dropped this."

"Thank you," Marianne mumbled. 

She held out her hand, so that Hilda could give it back without touching her. The coin fell into the centre of her palm with a heavy thud. She closed her fingers, and the coin vanished. Like some sort of mortal magic trick. 

Alright. That was enough weirdness for one day. Hilda was going to make this conspiracy-theory bullshit go back to normal if it killed her. 

Hilda squared her shoulders and marched over to Lorenz’s bed. “C’mon. Let’s go gear you up.”

She helped Marianne gather up all the clothes she was lending her, and carry them over to Demeter Cabin. And after that, she dragged Marianne over to the armoury to pick out some basic armour and a new sword. Marianne thanked her about twenty times on the way. Okay, so maybe that was an exaggeration. But she still thanked Hilda way too much. It was enough to make Hilda feel uncomfortable. 

Couldn't a girl just be nice for the sake of being nice? And for the sake of a good grade? 

"It's fine. Don't mention it. No, really," Hilda said, adding a bit of nervous charmspeak into her words. "Don't."

The magic washed over Marianne, but she merely blinked. "Okay. Sorry."

Now, that was just plain weird. Titans like Seteth, and pegasi, and major gods, sure. They were immune to Hilda's charms. But -- and she didn't mean to toot her own horn -- but she really was _Very Good_ at charmspeak. The best, even. Better than her brother anyway, and he could convince a billionaire to part with their last dollar.

Apparently however, Marianne was utterly immune. 

Hilda dropped a heap of leather armour onto Marianne's bed. "Alright. Well. I'll see you later."

* * *

The last thing Hilda wanted to do on a hot afternoon was sit out in the sun and work. Toil, even. This was officially in the 'toiling' category. Overhead the sky was a blue so pale it hurt to look at with the naked eye. The sun wasn't even that high up yet, but already Hilda could feel a bead of sweat gathering between her shoulderblades. Her bra would need to be peeled off later today. Ugh. 

She leaned back on her hands. She, along with a host of other students all in her age group, were gathered together in the amphitheatre. The stone offered no respite from the sun's merciless heat. Pale marble burned beneath her hands and through the sheer fabric of her very short shorts. Hilda did her best to make sure the naked skin of her thighs did not actually touch stone. 

Professor Manuela was delivering some sort of instructions to the class. Hilda wasn't really listening. She lent half and ear to the usual drivel about health and safety or whatever, and cast the rest of her attention towards complaining bitterly under her breath.

"I mean -- really -- we can't, like, opt out of these things?" she grumbled. "If I throw Dimitri onto his back, that means I should be exempt from every practice until the end of time."

"You haven't thrown Dimitri onto his back, though," Claude pointed out. 

"Hmph. Details. Details." 

Dimitri himself, the head of Ares cabin, sat a few rows in front of them. Their conversation passed right over his head. Which was lucky, really. He had a calm exterior, but Hilda knew better. She'd seen that wrathful streak of his in the forest once. 

To be fair, there had been a few big scary monsters involved, and he had single-handedly staved off half of them without any regard for his own personal safety. So, like, wrath it up, War Boy.

Manuela had stopped her pacing, and was now contemplating her students. She pointed at two of them to be the first sacrifice of the day to the arena, and Hilda almost had a heart attack when Manuela pointed in her direction. 

"Mr. Riegan, if you please," Manuela said, then pointed at Dimitri. "And Mr Blaiddyd. Could you both please come down for our first demonstration?"

Hilda breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank fuck." She slapped Claude on the shoulder as he rose to his feet. "Try not to lose a limb!"

Claude flashed her a broad beaming smile, as well as a middle finger. She returned the smile and waved cheerfully as he sauntered down the steps towards the arena floor, drawing his bow from his shoulders as he went. 

"Um -?" said a soft voice beside her.

Hilda half jumped out of her skin. She had forgotten Marianne had been sitting to her left this whole time. It took all of her vast reserves of skill to make a graceful recovery. She lowered her pink sunglasses down the bridge of her nose so she could meet Marianne's eye. "Sup?"

At least today Marianne somewhat blended into the rest of the group. She was wearing a set of clothes Hilda had given to her, while doing her best to cover as much skin as possible. She clutched her new bronze sword between both hands, the leather scabbard well oiled and tended, even if it was plain. She tilted the sword a little. “When you mentioned we would be using these in classes and things, what you meant to say was -?”

Hilda nodded towards where Claude and Dimitri were squaring off under Manuel’s instruction. “You know. Fighting monsters, and sparring, and stuff.”

Marianne’s grip on the scabbard tightened. “What if someone gets hurt?”

With a shrug, Hilda dismissed the idea. She pushed her sunglasses back into place. “There’s usually someone around with healing magic. The worst I’ve seen is a scratch or two. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” 

In the arena, Claude managed to hold his own for a surprisingly long time. Too bad an open arena really wasn't suited to his fighting style. Had there been places for him to hide and use the geography to his advantage, he would've won. No question. 

As it was, he peppered Dimitri with blows and arrows from a distance until, with a roar, Dimitri closed the distance between them. Hilda gave a sympathetic wince as Dimitri's spear swept Claude's legs out from under him, and he fell onto the ground with an audible thump. 

"Ooooh that's going to leave a bruise," she said, inhaling a sharp hiss of breath when the butt of Dimitri's spear swung down. "Not the face! Not the face!!"

Claude rolled out of the way, and the blunted spear end smacked against the dusty ground of the arena. Manuela called the sparring session to a halt, awarding tips and pointers as she saw fit. She had to go up to Dimitri and place a hand on his shoulder to stop him from stalking after Claude. 

The wild look in Dimitri's eyes faded, and he lowered his spear. Then he lowered his head to Claude, sweeping his hand to his heart and murmuring something Hilda couldn't hear. An apology probably, based on the way Claude waved him off with a grin. 

As the two of them shook hands, Manuela's eyes sought out two more contenders from the crowd. Hilda ducked down as far as she could in an effort to avoid her gaze. It worked. 

"Miss Ordelia, and Miss -" Manuela cocked her head. "-von Edmund. If you would both be so kind."

In the front row, Lysithea rose to her feet without hesitation. She bore no weapon, nor did she reveal one as she stepped out into the arena, dusting off her skirt. Meanwhile, Marianne shot Hilda a panicked look. 

"Go on!" Hilda urged. "Kick her ass!"

Marianne grimaced. Or perhaps that was her trying to smile. Still, she loomed to her feet, holding onto the sword as though she had already forgotten which end she was supposed to point at the enemy. When she started to pick her way down the stairs, Hilda scooted over to join a few of the Hermes and Hephaestus kids who sat nearby. 

"This should be interesting," said Ignatz. His leaned forward in his seat, his thick spectacles refracting the light. "I hope Lysithea doesn't completely wipe her off the map."

At that, Hilda lifted her hands to her mouth and called out, "Don't go easy on her, Marianne!"

Marianne's shoulders hunched up a little more around her ears, but her stride lengthened; she walked with a bit more purpose. But only a bit. 

"Yeah!! You can do it!" Raphael yelled beside Hilda, as eager for a brawl as any Ares kid despite the fact that his father was Hermes. Then he lowered his voice to a rumble, and asked, "So, who is that? I’ve seen her around, but -?"

"It's the new girl in Demeter Cabin. Though Claude has his doubts about that," Ignatz explained, not looking away from where Marianne and Lysithea were squaring off; Marianne was tugging her new sword free and placing the scabbard carefully on the ground. 

Hilda turned to the both of them. “Do either of you know what she even does in her free time, anyway? Because I’ve pretty much only ever seen her at meals, or during chores.”

Ignatz shrugged. "Prays, mostly."

With a snort, Hilda said, "Who prays when you can just ring up mom, and talk to god?"

"Apparently she does."

"Well -” Hilda was at a loss. “What the hell."

"I saw her talking to animals the other day," Raphael added.

Hilda gave him a flat stare. "You're joking."

"Nah, I swear! She was talking to a bird!"

“Is that even something Demeter kids do? Talk to animals?”

He shrugged.

"What kind of bird?" asked Hilda. 

"I dunno." Raphael scratched at his broad chin. "An owl? It was up on a branch, and it looked like it was listening when she talked."

“What is she? A child of Athena now? Auuugh!!” Hilda let her head drop into her hands. Her voice mumbled against her palms. “Tell Claude I give up.”

“Tell Claude what now?” said a familiar voice beside her; he had returned from his sparring match. 

“You win,” she groaned, dislodging her sunglasses so that she could rub at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “You’re right. Marianne’s an unknown entity. Forever. Mystery solved. You’re welcome.”

Claude patted her on the back. The side of his face was already blooming with a fresh bruise. “I’m sure we can get to the bottom of this. Now, move over, won’t you?”

Hilda made a face, and shuffled over. 

Down in the arena, Marianne lost before either she or Lysithea could break a sweat. But rather than appear disheartened, Marianne seemed relieved at the outcome. She sheathed her sword, while Lysithea frowned down at her own hands then at Marianne, as though puzzled by something. When Manuela instructed them to shake hands, Marianne instead inclined her head in a weird bow, like the one Seteth had offered her upon her arrival at camp. Lysithea, utterly flummoxed, returned the gesture, but continued to shoot Marianne funny looks as they walked back to their seats. 

It certainly wasn't the most invigorating sword-fighting Hilda had ever seen. That was still reserved for Petra when she was filled with battle-lust during a mission to the outside world -- a sight Hilda would never forget; it haunted her dreams. In a good way. 

But while it wasn't a flashy show of strength and skill, there could be no doubt that Marianne had some skill with the blade. Lingering beneath the surface. Like looking at something at the bottom of a fast-flowing stream, it was distorted yet in plain sight. 

Hilda opted to not mention anything, when Marianne returned to sit beside her. Instead offering enthusiastic praise -- which was taken up by Raphael -- and a high-five -- which was also taken up by Raphael, since Marianne still refused to touch people. 

“You went easy on her,” Hilda said, loudly enough for Lysithea to hear. Lysithea glowered, but made no reply. 

But Marianne only said, “She is very magically talented.”

Which wasn’t denying what Hilda had said at all. 

* * *

Nothing at all remarkable happened over the course of the next week or two. Classes. Chores. More classes. More chores. Boring. Unless you counted cool-headed, snide Hubert screaming like a little girl during pegasus-riding training. 

Hilda would have to make sure to actually give Minty some carrots for that.

Midway through the third week of camp, Hilda and the others gathered in the amphitheatre for some magic sparring lessons under the beady eye of the resident pedantic satyr and overall magic enthusiast, Hanneman. Hilda seated herself midway up the steps, confident that she wouldn’t be called upon for any demonstrations. 

Sure, she had magic. But Hanneman always liked his magic big and loud. The kind where you flung explosions, and branches, and ice, or whatever at each other in the arena. Hilda’s kind of magic involved batting her eyelashes so effectively that the enemy just dropped their guard, leaving an excellent opening for her to kick them into the stratosphere. And for some inexplicable reason that magic wasn’t good enough for public demonstrations.

Not that Hilda was complaining. Far from it. She put her sunglasses on, propped her feet atop the step in front of her, and settled in for an afternoon snooze. 

Of course, Hanneman called upon some of the Athena kids first. Then moved along to a few Hephaestus kids. The usual nonsense. Fire. Sparks. War magic. Scorched craters in the arena ground. Yawn.

But as the latest student to perform a demonstration was sitting back down, Hanneman turned his attention towards someone new. 

"Miss Edmund," Hanneman said with a gesture for Marianne to stand beside him. "I understand you have some talent in earth magic."

Well, that was news to Hilda. The last time Hilda had seen Marianne perform magic, it had resulted in everything in a ten meter radius turning to withered ash. One look at Marianne’s face only confirmed it, however. She was doing that thing where she hunched up like a hermit crab hiding in its shell. 

“I’m not sure if -” Marianne started to say, but Hanneman shook his horned and bespectacled head. 

“None of that now. This isn’t a sparring match, so there’s no danger to you or anyone else.”

"But -" 

"You cannot be exempt from everything, my dear," Hanneman added, scolding lightly. He waved for her to join him again.

Marianne hesitated. She looked over at Hilda, who flashed a feeble thumbs-up. That seemed to be all the persuasion Marianne needed, as though she would only do what Hilda approved of in this situation. Or perhaps as if she were hoping Hilda would save her.

Hilda did not realise it might have been the latter until it was far too late.

Marianne slouched to Hanneman's side. He directed her to face the others, so that she wilted beneath the full attention of the amphitheatre. 

Gesturing towards their feet, he said, "No need to fear. I have known many children of Demeter during my time here. Just focus on the earth, and it will answer."

Her hands were clenched into fists at her side. She did not move. Her gaze darted from side to side, before finally she squeezed her eyes shut, and held out her hand. 

Absolutely nothing happened. For a long time. Hilda could hear someone in the row behind her yawn. The birds were chirping happily away in the distance, until suddenly they weren't. 

Hilda sat up straighter. The back of her neck prickled. An odd silence settled over the amphitheatre. Like sound-cancelling headphones. Like being plunged beneath water. A pressure rising up like the tide until it seized everything in sight. 

And beneath them, a faint rumble. 

"That's it," said Hanneman, encouraging yet calm. "Don't force it. Just ease the plants out, and they should grow."

Hilda had been around the magic of Demeter kids before. Hell, just last week she had convinced Mercedes to save her bacon with those flowers. This was nothing at all like that. 

Marianne's eyes remained squeezed shut, as though she were anticipating the blow of an open hand. Her outstretched fingers trembled, and suddenly the earth erupted beneath her feet. Fissures split the surface with a sound like thunder, cracks extending in every direction. Some of the other students leapt to their feet, and scrambled back as the ground yawned open. It swallowed up columns, great chunks of marble and debris falling into a mephitic chasm that continued to widen. 

Hilda grabbed another student, who almost went careening into the chasm, hauling him back onto solid rock. In the arena Hanneman was yelling. Marianne's face was screwed up in a sustained flinch. When he grabbed her by the shoulder, she jerked. And in a flash of eerie light, Hanneman was flung backwards. His body crashed into the side of a pillar, and the ground went still.

Plumes of dust distorted the air. People coughed and waved, trying to see through the murk. From here, Hilda could just make out Marianne with her hands lifted to her mouth in horror. 

"Sorry!" she said, over and over. "I'm sorry!"

Marianne rushed over to Hanneman, reaching out to touch him, but stopping herself from doing so. His only response was to groan something wordless. Something dark matted his grey hair, and one of his curled horns had snapped, oozing red. 

The dust began to settle, and with it silence. Everyone stared. Marianne seemed to shrink before their very eyes. Before anyone could speak, she turned and fled. The moment she was gone, pandemonium broke loose. A few of the students raced over to Hanneman, Mercedes foremost among them, her hands already aglow with a healing spell. 

Claude looked at Hilda. "Child of Demeter, huh?"

Hilda pursed her lips. "Now's really not the time, Claude."

"On the contrary," he gestured to the gaping wound in the ground, splitting the amphitheatre nearly in twain. "I think now is the perfect time to be asking these questions." 

A pillar crumbled and crashed to the ground. Hilda winced. “Okay. Yeah. Fine. But I’m going to go find her before we start debating.”

“Good luck! Try not to get swallowed up by another freak earthquake.”

Already, Mercedes was helping Hanneman to his feet. Or -- hooves. Same thing. Another student, a red-headed Athena kid by the name of Annette, was repairing his spectacles, and handing them over for him to don. Before anyone could notice her absence, Hilda slipped away in the ensuing chaos.

Outside of the amphitheatre, Marianne was nowhere to be seen. With a sigh, Hilda started off towards the woods. 

When Hilda finally found her, Marianne was perched atop a branch halfway up a tree. She was talking quietly, but when Hilda approached, she fell silent. An extra set of eyes peered from the branches above her, wide and golden. An owl. Early evening shadows gathered around the woods, clustering around Marianne as though she were a magnet for twilight. She hugged her knees to her chest, and sat, completely still. 

The owl took flight when Hilda drew too near. It vanished into the surrounding trees. 

Hilda placed her hands on her hips, and craned her neck back to look up. “How the hell did you even get up there?”

There were no branches between the ground and the branch Marianne sat upon. And that branch was a good twelve feet in the air. Maybe more. 

Marianne peered over her knees down at Hilda. “Why did you follow me?”

“Well, that seems like a weird question.” Hilda gestured at where Marianne sat. “Then again, you are halfway up a tree after having turned some of the amphitheatre into rubble, so. Y’know. If it walks like a duck and acts like a duck.”

Marianne stared. “Then,” she said slowly, “it climbs trees?”

Hilda couldn’t keep a snort of laughter at bay. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“That satyr -?” Marianne asked. “Is he -?”

“Who? Hanneman?” Hilda scoffed. “He’s fine. Satyr’s have notoriously thick skulls. It would take more than that to kill him.” She beckoned. “Now, can you come down? I’m going to get a crick in my neck.” 

That only seemed to make Marianne curl in upon herself more. If anything, the branch looked further up now, though Hilda had no idea how that could have been possible. 

"You shouldn't spend so much time around me. Bad things happen around people who spend too much time with me. And I -" Marianne swallowed. Then she mumbled against her knees, "I think you're nice."

"Well, that's awfully sweet of you. Really. But I think I'll be fine."

"Hilda -"

"Listen. I'm a half-blood. Apart from your demigod step-father, all the people you spent time with must've been mortal, right? I’m tougher than I look. Now, come down, and we can go back to your cabin. I won’t even drag you to the dining pavilion. In fact,” Hilda wheedled, her voice lilting into a sing-song tone. “I’ll go get you a platter and bring it over, so people don’t stare at you. If that’s what this whole fleeing into the woods thing is even all about.”

For a moment there was silence as the offer was considered. Nervously, Marianne tugged at the long sleeves of the shirt Hilda had given her. “Can you - Can you turn around? I don’t want to do it while you’re watching.”

Truth be told, Hilda had been anticipating needing to catch her on the jump down. But with a bemused shrug, Hilda turned around on the spot. Behind her, she could hear the faintest rustle of the wind through trees, or perhaps a draught flickering through torches along a dimly lit corridor. When she turned back around, Marianne was sitting on the ground in the exact same position she had been in while atop the branch. Knees curled up to her chest. Hands firmly chained about her ankles.

Hilda held out her hand as a silent offer to help Marianne to her feet. To her utter shock, Marianne actually took it. Her fingers were soft and very _very_ cold. 

Hilda tightened her grip, and hauled Marianne upright. “Geesh. You’re freezing.”

Immediately Marianne pulled her hand away, clenching it into a fist at her side. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” Hilda tilted her head towards the direction of camp. “C’mon. Let’s go back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh I had forgotten pegasi could talk, but now I actually like this dumb pegasus. So, Minty is here for good apparently. This must be what the creators of She-Ra feel like.


	3. Chapter 3

Hilda had a weird dream. Weirder than usual, that is. 

Normally, there would be flying, or all of her hair and teeth falling out, or being rushed to an event but not being able to find anything in her closet except piles upon piles of Doc Martens. You know. Nightmares. The fuzzy, barely half-remembered kind which she awoke from with a grumbled "- the  _ hell?" _

This dream had no fuzzy edges. It was crystal clear, like seeing through a fisheye lens. There was a vaulted stone crypt with an altar shaped like an empty bed, but there were no windows or doors along the walls. She stood in the middle of the room, and every breath was an icy mist, pale clouds from her mouth that faded into nothing. 

Hilda shivered. She blinked, and her mother loomed over her. Aphrodite was ten feet tall and utterly inhuman, with eyes like a meadow in spring. She was draped in a pale lilac dress that shimmered when she moved. 

"Tell me, darling," she murmured, and placed her hands upon Hilda's shoulders. Hilda had never felt so dwarfed in her entire life as she did in that moment. "How would you like to die?"

"What?" said Hilda, the single word accompanied by a plume of lung-warm mist. 

And then Aphrodite's hands were around her throat. She squeezed, and Hilda choked. Reaching up, Hilda tugged at her mother's wrists, but no amount of demigod strength could hope to contend with the real deal. 

"My little girl," Aphrodite smiled, and she sounded so soft, her hands like cold dark iron. "Off to be a big hero."

Hilda kicked her feet. She did not know when she had been lifted off the floor, until suddenly the ground was no longer beneath her, and her legs dangled. She gasped for air. Her head swam.

Her mother's voice was a whisper at her ear now. A golden curl of Aphrodite's hair brushed against Hilda's cheek. "Just remember: don't -"

Something knocked against the bed, and Hilda wrenched awake with a wheeze. Her vision still reeled. She clutched at her chest. In the middle of the night, she had tangled herself up in the blankets. Now, she kicked herself free. 

"Yo, wake up already," Sylvain said. He leaned a shoulder against one of the posts that held her bunk bed aloft. "Lorenz told me to tell you that this week's chores list are on the corkboard by the door."

Finally rid of the sheets, Hilda sank back down to her bed. Her heart was still racing. "Thank you," she gasped.

At that, Sylvain's eyebrows rose.  _ "Thank you?" _ he repeated, incredulous. "Are you sure you're feeling okay there, Hilda? I think the last time you said 'thank you' to me when we traded duties for a week so you could get to second base with that blue-haired kid from Ares cabin."

Closing her eyes, Hida inhaled a deep breath. Air had never tasted so sweet. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just -" 

She waved at him to leave her alone. He shrugged, and sauntered off without another word. 

Dreams with gods weren't exactly uncommon, but Hilda was hard-pressed to remember the last time she'd had one. Most gods took a general disinterest in their half-mortal children. Aphrodite was no exception. Hell, Hida had only ever met her mother in person three times before, and that was considered a rarity even amongst this crowd. Most demigods were lucky to meet their divine parent once in their entire lives. Or unlucky, depending on the circumstances. 

Hilda had always considered herself fortunate to be so favoured. Being the favoured kid -- along with Holst -- had always been something to flaunt. After that dream however, she wasn’t sure she wanted to see dear old mom again any time soon. Even if it was just a dream. 

Which, of course it was. Just a dream. Just a really weird dream. 

With a groan, Hilda clambered out of bed. She yawned, and rubbed at her eyes as she dragged her feet over to the line of self-contained bathroom cubicles at the far end of the cabin. She shut and locked the door behind her. She already had her toothbrush in her mouth, when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, and froze. 

Her eyes widened. Toothbrush still sticking from the side of her mouth, Hilda leaned forward to more closely inspect her reflection. 

There were bruises at her throat. 

* * *

The bruises mostly vanished before breakfast. Being a demigod had its perks, like quick healing. But the bruises still managed to freak Hilda out in the meantime. 

_ Seriously. _ What the hell? Being a demigod was supposed to be about being near indestructible, having cool powers, and doing backflips with swords. Not whatever the fuck this was.

Before she could even reach the dining pavilion however, Hilda was assailed en route.

"Hey! Hilda! Wait up!"

She turned, irritated. The dining pavilion was close enough that she could smell breakfast. Plus, she'd had a pretty shit morning, all things considered. She wanted food.

"What now?" Hilda asked.

Claude jogged up to her. His usual bow was disguised as a garishly coloured headband. Somehow, he managed to make it work; he had enough confidence to pull off even the most outrageous outfits. If Hilda hadn’t known better, she might have thought they were partly related.

He stopped at a comfortable distance from her. "Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"Proving that it can even happen to the best of us." Hilda made a 'hurry up' motion with her hand. "Now, what's up? My stomach is angry today, so make it snappy."

If anything, Claude took on a more relaxed air. "Far be it from me to come between you and a meal. But I'll be quick. It's about Marianne -"

Hilda rolled her eyes. "Gods, not this again."

"Just hear me out." Claude raised his hands and then made a gesture as though parting a curtain for a grand finale. "Poseidon's daughter."

"Really?" Hilda said, her tone flat and completely unimpressed.

"Oh, c'mon! Think about it." He began to tick off items on his fingers. "Causes earthquakes. Loves horses. Suspiciously avoids going into water around others. The trident on the coin you were telling me about."

"A weird broken trident," Hilda corrected.

"Right. A trident. Also, you've got a lot of hickeys on your neck, just so you know."

Even the mention of the bruises fading at her throat made Hilda's blood run cold. She lifted the collar of her shirt, and grumbled, "Yeah. Thanks."

"I thought you weren't seeing anyone right now? The only person I ever see you hanging around with these days is -" And then Claude's eyes widened. "You're canoodling with the  _ new girl?" _

At that, Hilda let out a snort of laughter. It was so utterly ridiculous an idea, that it drove the recent memory of her nightmare right from her mind. She clapped him on the shoulder, and hung on as she continued to laugh. "Okay. Thank you. Really. I needed a good laugh."

"Well, if it's not her, then who is it?" Claude's mouth widened into a smirk. "I do see you being cornered by Seteth an awful lot. That would explain things."

Hilda shoved at his shoulder. "Ew! Gross! As if!"

He still managed to take the time to pat her on the back in a manner that was both friendly and patronising at the same time. It made her think of her brother. "It's okay. I get it. He's got the hot dad thing going for him. Some people are into that."

"Okay. I'm leaving," Hilda huffed, and -- true to her word -- spun around in her heel and marched off, nose in the air.

Claude called after her, "Just think about what I said! About Poseidon! And dad bods!!"

"No, thank you!" Hilda waved over her shoulder without looked back, then pushed past one of the draped banners that hung between the pillars of the pavilion.

The pavilion had no official entrances. Shaped like an ancient temple without walls, it could be entered on any side that had a gap between the pillars. The campers within were shielded from the elements by a mixture of magic and long lengths of cloth, each bearing the colours and emblems of the various gods and goddesses represented at the camp. When Hilda passed beneath the banner of Aphrodite, she could smell myrtle in spring, and feel the brush of dove's wings against her skin.

It was early enough in the morning that there were still quite a few people seated at their respective tables. That in and of itself earned Hilda a few curious turned heads and waves in her direction. Normally, she didn't wander into the dining pavilion until the very last second. She would laze around in bed, and then use a late breakfast as an excuse to stave off chores for as long as possible. 

Now, she waved back at one or two people. On the walk over to the Aphrodite table however, she paused. Lysithea was just finishing up scraping leftovers into the central brazier. The coals spat and popped, but nothing more. Just as Lysithea was setting down her plate and making to leave the pavilion, Hilda stepped in her path. 

"Good morning, Lysithea!" Hilda said, far more peppy than she actually felt, but needs must. "Aren't you looking scholarly today!"

Lysithea arched an eyebrow down at her. She was the youngest in their age bracket, but she was still taller than Hilda, which irritated Hilda to no end. "What do you want?"

Hilda tried for a look of wide-eyed innocence. "Do I need to want something from you? Can't a girl just be nice and say hello? And maybe flirt shamelessly a little?"

"I already have a girlfriend. So, I'm not interested. Thanks." And with that, Lysithea started walking away.

Hilda had to scamper to get back into her path and stop her from going too far. "Okay, okay!" Hilda said, her voice dropping back to its usual timbre. "I may have been hoping to ask you a few questions. But it's because you're soooo smart, and I was just wanting your opinion on something that's been bugging me lately."

Lysithea only squinted in reply.

"You don't believe me?" Hilda asked. And, okay, so maybe she added a little breathless quality to her voice. Some habits are hard to break, alright?

"No."

"Well, don't worry. You're very cute, but you and Edelgard are safe from my many charms."

Sighing, Lysithea checked her watch, which was turned inwards to her wrist. "You have three minutes. Don't waste them."

"Right. To business, then." Hilda squared her shoulders, and cleared her throat. Her voice dropped another note or two, until it more closely resembled comfortable, unaffected speaking range. Also so that other people couldn't overhear. "You know the new girl? In Demeter Cabin?"

"I know of her," Lysithea replied. She crossed her arms, already tapping her fingers. 

"Doesn't it seem strange? That she's in Demeter Cabin, I mean. She's not like any other Demeter kid I've ever met before."

"Not everything about the gods and their half-mortal children are as they seem to be," Lysithea said. "You, yourself, for instance seem the epitome of any child of Aphrodite, but people would be foolish to assume you are without cunning."

"Aww, I thought you said no flirting?" Hilda made sure her grin had a flash of dimples. 

At that, Lysithea's cheeks flushed a light shade of pink, but her glare could cut glass. "Unless you want me to hex you three ways to Sunday, I suggest you continue with your line of questioning. Promptly."

_ “Geesh! _ You’re no fun!” Hilda made a face, sticking out her tongue. “Okay. Forreal, though, after that whole earthquake thing, I saw her talking to an owl, and I thought she might be, y'know, inclined towards your family.”

“That’s it? An  _ owl?” _

“Well, she can also use weird magic, too! Like you!”

Lysithea rolled her eyes. “Yes, because there is no variation of the skills within my half-siblings, whatsoever.” 

“Listen,” Hilda used her very best brook-no-nonsense tone, which was very no-nonsense-brooking to be honest. “She was talking with an owl. And I just want some answers. Don’t you want to know, too? I know you know that something’s weird here. And I know you know that I know that you like knowing things.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Lysithea sighed. “Not all gods have sacred birds. Obviously some of them do. But also some of them have very similar sacred birds. Hestia and Dionysus, for example, with the turtle-dove and dove respectively.”

“Yeah. Okay. But -”

Before Hilda could continue to pepper her with questions, Lysithea interrupted, “Are you sure she was actually talking to the owl?”

Hilda bristled. “I know what I saw!”

“I’m just offering up potential solutions to your problem. Maybe she was just talking to herself, and the owl happened to be there.”

“Both times? When I saw it, and when Raphael saw it?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you think that’s too much of a coincidence?”

“No.”

“Not even just a teensy little bit?” Hilda held up her thumb and forefinger a hair’s breadth apart.

The muscles of Lysithea’s jaw bunched up.  _ “No. _ Now, unless you have anymore questions -” 

“Well actually, I’m so glad you said that, because this paper Manuela gave us on the transformation of demigods into mythological Heroes is really tough, and I was hoping you’d explain to me how the god parent in question chooses their heirs to become -”

“Great. Bye.” Lysithea turned on her heel and stalked off before Hilda could squeeze another word in edgewise. 

“Hey! Wait!!  _ Lysithea!” _ Hilda let her hand drop when it became imminently clear that Lysithea was not going to turn back around under any circumstances, short of a portal to Hell rupturing the earth in twain. Which was a shame, really. Hilda was actually curious about the answer to that question.

Sighing, Hilda shoved her hands into the pockets of her shorts, and blinked in surprise. There was a piece of paper rustling against her fingertips. She pulled it out, curious as to what she had left in her pocket -- she didn't recall leaving anything in there. When she pulled it out and unfolded it however, she made a noise of exasperation. 

Claude's cramped handwriting read:  _ 'find out more about our mystery girl. ps - give the Poseidon thing a chance. you know I'm right.' _

Hilda threw the piece of paper towards the lake. It fluttered in the breeze, and landed against her shin. In a fit of frustration, she picked it up, crumpled it into a ball, and then chucked it again. This time it very satisfyingly landed into the lake, and sank beneath the surface of the water. 

When had he even managed to sneak that note into her pocket? It must've happened when they spoke this morning before breakfast. Bastard. 

Not that Claude didn't have a point. Poseidon did seem to be a good bet. Something about the idea didn't sit quite right in Hilda's mind, though. Then again, she had never met a child of one of the Big Three gods. So, maybe Claude's theory had merit. 

Midway through the week however, it became more and more evident that the last thing Marianne needed was scrutiny. She needed socialisation. At the very least she needed a hug. Though, Hilda was ninety-seven percent sure that Marianne would sooner crawl out of her own skin than let someone give her a hug. 

As usual, the two of them were forced to team together for chores throughout the week. On top of that, this week was all about paired activities. About having a buddy, and doing lessons and things with them. Things like: climbing a hundred foot wall in less than two minutes while your partner belayed for you, and canoeing in paired races across the lake, and sparring until either a) their muscles turned to mush, or b) first blood. 

You know. Good wholesome camp stuff.

The first day’s activity Hilda was sure they would win. She knew for a fact that some of the Athena and Ares kids had a deadly fear of heights, but Ingrid took the cake in that exercise, beating the rest of them by a good fifteen feet. The second day’s activity they also lost, which meant that Claude's Poseidon theory was looking thin. Hilda made silent faces at Claude across the beach until he shook his head and mimed a response at her. 

And the activity on the third day ended with Hilda moaning about being too delicate for this kind of strenuous exercise in the middle of the afternoon. It didn't matter that Marianne kept losing their sparring match on purpose, or that there was still a jagged patch of grey rock in the ground where the arena had been repaired earlier in the week.

By the middle of the sparring lesson, Hilda leaned against her axe, and frowned. "Are you even trying?"

Marianne held her Celestial bronze sword loosely in one hand. Her form was atrocious, but in a way that belied an underlying understanding of swordsmanship itself. Only someone well-trained in the art could do something  _ that _ terrible. It had to be on purpose.

"What do you mean?"

With one hand, Hilda pushed her sweaty bangs out of her face. "Well, you obviously know how to use that," she said, pointing towards the sword. "But you pretend that you don't. Are you trying to make me feel better by letting me win, or something?"

"No," Marianne mumbled.

"Because, trust me, my ego can take it. It's totally fine."

Marianne's fingers tightened into a fist around the sword hilt. "I never doubted that."

"So, what's the big deal?"

"You underestimate yourself," Marianne said. "You're very strong."

"Thanks. I know. Which is why you shouldn't feel like you need to hold back so much." Hilda lowered her voice slightly. "Didn't we talk about this in the woods the other day? I told you, I'm not made of glass. None of us here are. You're among people like you now, remember?"

Still, Marianne dropped her eyes and refused to meet Hilda's gaze. She nodded in silence, but said nothing. 

Hilda hefted her axe to her shoulder, shrugging against the weight as though the heavy Celestial bronze were as light as paper. "Well, come on, then. Hit me with your best shot." She said it in a sing-song tone, and bent her knees slightly as though in anticipation for a blow.

Marianne swallowed nervously. "I don't -" she started to say, but stopped. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, before she continued, "I don't like hurting people."

"Who said I was going to get hurt, huh?"

After a long pause, Marianne lifted her sword once more. It was a half-hearted attempt at coming en garde, but at least her form was correct this time. Hilda used the flat of her axe to swat Marianne's sword aside. It did not fall from Marianne's hand, but it did leave her wide open for an attack. 

Hilda advanced a step forward, forcing Marianne to take a step back in order to keep distance. "Don't be like that. Hit me back. Make me work for it."

Rather than raise her sword, Marianne continued to retreat while Hilda walked towards her. "I thought you didn't like to work."

"Yeah, but there's something about you that makes me think putting in the effort isn't so bad."

Marianne blinked. "Why?"

"I don't know. It's weird. You’re weird. I kind of like it." Hilda shrugged, and swung her axe again. 

With movements sinuous as a shadow's Marianne slipped out of Hilda's range, easily dodging the blow. Her sword still hung at her side, held loosely in her hand. They were starting to circle around the other pairs of sparring partners now, moving to avoid anyone. Hilda darted forward, swiping at Marianne with her axe, attack after slashing attack, all of which met nothing but air. 

"You know," Hilda said, "Not all confrontation is bad. Sometimes sucking it up, and facing someone down really does make life materially better.” 

“I think you and I have had very different life experiences,” said Marianne. 

After basically chasing Marianne all the way around the area twice, Hilda could feel the sweat beginning to collect dust and grime from the arena. In stark contrast, Marianne hardly looked like she had done anything more than take a leisurely stroll. Her dark eyes were steady and unblinking, reading Hilda’s every movement with the familiarity of someone who had seen years of combat training. 

They had amassed a bit of a crowd. Some of the other campers had stopped their own sparring to watch. Hilda continued to chat casually, even as she swung her axe at Marianne, knowing that her attack would be dodged yet again.

"Have you considered a haircut?" 

Marianne stepped to the side, and circled around Hilda, forcing her to flail her axe in a broad horizontal sweep for the follow up attack. "No. Why?"

"No reason. I just think it would look good on you, is all."

"I like my hair long."

"That's fine. You can keep it long. I'm just thinking a trim. Your bangs are hiding your eyes. Bangs are supposed to be a framing device for your face! Not hide it!"

With a thoughtful hum, Marianne actually parried with her blade, but did not counter attack. "I'm not sure."

"I can show you later, if you want?" Hilda offered, while bringing her axe down so hard it buried itself into the arena floor. She had to tug it free with a grunt. "I think you'd look really cute."

"Oh. Well, I don't know about that." Marianne dodged the attempt at flattery with as much skill as she dodged everything else. 

"Do I look like I don't know what I'm talking about?"

"No. I think you look very stylish."

"Exactly. Which is why you should totally let me give you a makeover one of these days."

"Hmm," said Marianne dubiously. 

"That wasn't a 'no'," Hilda pointed out. She shortened her grip upon her axe to make smaller more controlled movements with it, none of which connected. "Tell you what. Let's play a game. If I can land a hit, then I give you a makeover. And if you disarm me, then you can -- I don't know -- push me into the lake."

"I don't want to push you into the lake."

"Then, what do you want?"

For a moment Marianne mulled that over. She tapped the flat of her sword against her thigh. "Sorbet."

Hilda grinned. "Deal!"

Marianne nodded, and agreed in a far softer tone, "Deal."

This time, when Hilda swung her axe, she feinted. She twisted her shoulders one direction, then changed her footing at the last second so she could bring her axe down to exactly where Marianne had moved. Except this time, Marianne's sword arced up in a gleam of bronze, expertly guided into the groove between axe and handle, so that when Marianne flicked her wrist with a twist, it wrenched the axe handle from Hilda's hands. 

Or at least, it would have, had Hilda not hung on to the axe for dear life. 

Eyes wide in surprise, Hilda stumbled forward. Faster than even the semi-immortal eye could follow, Marianne reached forward with her spare hand, grabbed the long-handled hilt of the axe above Hilda's own grip, and yanked. At the same time, she delicately planted her foot into the middle of Hilda's chest, and pushed. 

The next thing Hilda knew, the air had been knocked out of her, and she was flat on her back. 

A dark shape blotted out the sun, and for a moment it seemed that the shadow Marianne cast while standing over her extended across all the earth. She blocked the sun like the moon during an eclipse. It hurt to look at her. 

Then Hilda blinked, and the moment passed. 

“Sorry,” Marianne said. 

She extended her hand in a silent offer. It was the reverse of last week, when Hilda had helped her to her feet. Without thinking, Hilda reached out and grabbed hold of Marianne’s hand, allowing herself to be hauled upright. A few people were clapping and laughing on the sidelines.

“Are you alright?” asked Marianne. Her hand lingered for a second -- as frightfully cold as it had been the last time they had touched -- before she snatched it away. 

Hilda smiled. She brushed a hand down the front of her own clothes as if wicking off a bit of water, and in a flurry of magic all of the dirt and sweat melted from her, leaving her as clean and fresh as though she had stepped from a shower not five minutes ago.

"Never been better.” She bent down to pick up her axe from the ground, transforming it back into a pair of sunglasses, which she perched atop her nose to complete the look. “Looks like I owe you an ice cream. Or sorbet. Same difference. Want to leave early, and get some now?”

Marianne stared at her. "Was that -" she asked slowly, "- your plan all along? To leave early?"

"Why, are you accusing me of something, Miss Marianne?" Hilda gasped, feigning offence. Then, she lowered her sunglasses just enough to wink over them. "So. Sorbet?"

The corner of Marianne's mouth twitched, but that may have just been a trick of the light. “Yeah. Okay."

* * *

If there was one single class that Hilda hated most, it was flying class. The act of flying itself wasn't a problem. In fact, she rather liked it. Especially as a means of convenient transport. Like airplanes. Or helicopters. Or maybe hot air balloons, but those were on thin fucking ice. 

Riding a pegasus, though? No thank you. She would rather wear gumboots and flannel to the Met Gala. 

When Hilda tried to slip away from the class however, she was cornered by Seteth, who was -- unfortunately -- the teacher for that day's lesson. 

"Going somewhere?" 

Hilda froze. She pretended to cough, and turned around, trying to look as haggard as possible. "Oh, Seteth. I'm so glad you asked. I just feel absolutely awful today. I really should sleep this bug off."

Seteth's ageless eyes never left her face. His expression remained fixed and stern, but in a way that somehow made it seem that he was an instant away from a knowing smirk. Like he could see right through her lies. Which, annoyingly, he probably could. 

Damn Titans. Damn pegasi. Damn flying class.

"Now, that is a shame," Seteth said. "Seeing as how, as far as we know, you are the only one Marianne is comfortable touching."

Hilda blinked. "I - uh -? I guess? And also I really don't see how that is relevant."

"Allow me to explain. We are pairing off in today's class, and training for aerial battle manoeuvres." He cocked his head to one side. "Seeing as it would be inhospitable to leave Marianne on the ground while everyone else participated, I was hoping you would do us the kindness of being her partner for this exercise."

"Oh. Well. That's - " Hilda floundered. But before she could even fumble out an excuse, Seteth continued speaking. 

"No matter. If you say you are ill, then you are ill."

Surprised and simultaneously suspicious, Hilda said slowly, "Yes."

"Which is why I must ask Mercedes to heal you. To ensure you are in top shape, of course."

At that, Hilda grimaced. Healing magic when you were actually sick or injured was all fine and dandy. But when you weren't actually sick or injured, it felt -- well, bad, to be perfectly honest. Not that it hurt, so to speak. Just that it felt like someone shoving a tube where it didn't belong in the search for whatever it was that acted as the source of your illness. 

"That won't be necessary -" Hilda tried to say, but Seteth was already turning to wave Mercedes over. In horror, she watched as Mercedes joined them with a concerned look on her face. 

"Mercedes," Seteth said. "Hilda isn't feeling so well, and I was hoping you might assist us, as I do wish for her to partake in today's activities."

"Of course!" Mercedes replied, as cheerful as ever to be helpful in any way. 

With a groan, Hilda allowed her face to be grasped between Mercedes' hands, and her vision was filled with white light. After a very uncomfortable moment, in which Hilda felt like a swarm of flies were crawling beneath her skin, Mercedes let her go. 

Smiling, Mercedes said, "There. Good as new."

"Gee. Thanks." Hilda had to swallow past the magically induced cotton-mouth. 

Mercedes turned to Seteth. "Is there anything else you need?"

"No. Thank you," Seteth said, looking every inch the smug bastard Titan that he was. He wasn't even trying to hide the little smile now. "That will be all."

Mercedes ducked her head in a nod, then trotted back over to the red-haired Athena girl, Annette, and the roan pegasus mare they were going to be riding together. Meanwhile, Seteth continued to watch Hilda. He gestured towards the line of yet unclaimed pegasi. "If you would be so kind."

Grumbling under her breath, Hilda stomped over to where he indicated. Marianne stood apart from the others. Most of the camp members had given up trying to interact with her after a few weeks of being met with awkward silences and constant apologies. When Hilda approached however, Marianne's head lifted. 

"Hi," she greeted with a little wave of her hand. "I thought you said you weren't feeling well?"

Hilda sighed, dragging a hand down her face. "Yeah. Well, Mercedes fixed me up, so now I'm back."

"Oh, good. I'm glad."

"Glad? Really?"

Marianne was wringing her hands together, and darting nervous glances at the other campers. "Well, I - one of the other campers came up to me and asked me to be his partner, and I was afraid Seteth would make me do it."

"Would that be so bad?"

Marianne refused to offer any further explanation. 

"Who asked you?" Hilda asked.

Marianne pointed, and Hilda followed where she indicated. Claude. Of course it was Claude. He saw them looking in his direction. He smiled and waved. 

"He's not so bad," Hilda assured her. 

"I'm sure he isn't. He seemed very nice, in fact."

"And?" 

"And -" Marianne continued at Hilda's urging. "- I don't like spending too much time around people."

Hilda sighed. "I see we're still not past that. Ah, well. Baby steps."

"What?"

"Nothing. Nevermind." Hilda looked down the line of pegasi, who were idly grazing while waiting to be approached by an assigned pair. "C'mon. The sooner we get this over with, the better."

"Alright."

Students were being herded towards the pegasi by Seteth and his daughter, Flayn. Pairs of campers had being to approach a pegasus, and some of the more animal-inclined members were already mounting. Hilda straightened her pink-lensed sunglasses upon her nose, and perused the quickly diminishing selection. 

Minty was unmistakable, with his ivory pale coat and black legs. Hilda made a beeline away from him. There was no way she was going to be saddled with that asshole. Before she could approach the nearest pegasus however, another pair swooped in beside it. 

"Hey!" Hilda said in outrage. "Find your own pegasus!"

Both Edelgard, the head of Athena cabin, and Lysithea gave her reproachful looks that were near identical. Followed by Lysithea saying, "I thought that was your pegasus."

She pointed at Minty. 

Hilda scrunched up her nose. "Ew! No way! What would give you that impression?"

"Because you are often seen talking to him at the stables?" Edelgard answered, as though that were obvious.

"Yeah. Sure, but that doesn't mean he's  _ mine." _

Edelgard and Lysithea shared a look, then a shrug. "If you say so," said Lysithea. 

"I just did!" 

Behind her, Marianne cleared her throat softly. "Um -? Hilda?"

Hilda turned. "What's up?"

"I think all of the other pegasi have already been taken."

Hilda looked around. Sure enough, Marianne was right. Swearing loudly, Hilda closed her eyes and tilted her head back to the sky. "Why me?" she groaned.

"I'm sorry -" 

"No, not you, Marianne." Hilda let out a long frustrated exhalation. Then, squaring her shoulders, she marched over to Minty, with Marianne drifting in her wake like a shadow. 

"Hey!" Hilda called out. "Future Glue!"

Two black-tipped ears swivelled at the sound of Hilda's voice, and Minty lifted his head. He was still chewing on a tuft of grass, when his voice filled their heads. "Well, if it isn't my old nemesis, What's-Her-Face. And -" Minty's nostrils flared. "- Carrot Girl."

Coming to a halt before him, Hilda rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. We all have a mutual loathing of one another. What's new?"

"I don't hate you," Marianne said from beside Hilda. 

"That's nice," Minty replied. "But you didn't bring carrots this time."

"Uhm, no. Sorry."

He snorted, then lowered his head to keep eating, utterly disinterested in their presence. 

"Let me handle this," Hilda said to Marianne, then rounded on the pegasus. "Now, listen up. None of us want to be here. But we have to be, or else that guy -" she jerked a thumb over her shoulder towards where Seteth was helping a frantic-looking Hubert onto the back of a pegasus "- will get mad. So, unless you want to buy a one-way ticket to Horse Hell, or whatever, I suggest you cooperate for the next hour or two. Got it?"

The pegasus swished his dark glossy tail, and at the same time stomped one of his back hooves. After a long moment of grass-chewing and contemplation, Minty finally said, "Fine. Get on."

Well, that was easier than anticipated. Hilda didn't even have to wheedle, which was a shame, really. She felt like her wheedling skills were starting to get a bit rusty, and it was always good to practice on something that was immune to charmspeak. 

Hilda held out her hand in a gesture for Marianne to go first. Partly because she was trying to be nice. But mostly because she didn't want to be the one in control of a sentient magical animal. That sounded like way too much responsibility. She'd rather let someone else take the reins.

Not that there were actual reins. Pegasi didn't take very kindly to that kind of thing. They preferred their communication to come in the form of verbal or psychic. Or rude gestures. It really depended on what the situation called for. 

Hilda had expected to need to help Marianne up, but Marianne lifted herself atop the pegasus' back with a sudden surge of grace. She shifted slightly once on his back, tugging at her track pants a bit. She still wore Hilda’s ill-fitting clothes; Hilda would have to call up her brother to see what was taking him so long to send new clothes. 

At the added weight, Minty shuffled his wings, but otherwise remained still. He continued to eat. On the other hand, Hilda tried to haul herself into place twice before giving up. Being short and trying to mount a big horse creature was the bane of her existence. Marianne extended her hand, and pulled at Hilda's wrist, and Hilda nearly went careening over Minty's back onto the other side. She barely stopped herself, but only by grabbing onto Marianne's shoulders. 

Immediately, Marianne stiffened. Which meant Hilda stiffened, and jerked her hands away as if burned. "Sorry."

"It's alright," Marianne mumbled, but she kept her head ducked, and her eyes firmly fixed on the way her fists were clenched around great handfuls of Minty's dark mane. 

"Is it okay if I -?" Hilda held out her hands, but did not touch Marianne's waist. 

A moment of hesitation before Marianne nodded. Even so, Hilda did not immediately touch her. 

From the direction of the stables, Seteth's voice rang out. "Campers, you should now all have mounted your pegasi. I want you to do a lap to the dining pavilion and back, before getting into your pre-determined aerial formations over the lake."

He droned on and on with instructions. Hilda made a miming gesture with her hand that mimicked his incessant talking. Peeking over her shoulder, Marianne saw, and made a funny noise at the back of her throat, before quickly turning back around. 

"Don't fly over the forest," Seteth finished with the usual warnings. "And be back in no later than two hours. If you should need assistance, I will be riding behind you. Now, go."

The literal second he said 'go', Minty spread his wings. Previously Hilda had not properly admired the true breadth of his wingspan. He had always kept them neatly tucked up against his flank every time she had encountered him in the past. Now, seated atop his back, his wings spread a good fifteen feet in either direction, and all of a sudden Hilda felt quite small. 

When he lifted his head, and then reared up on his hind legs, Hilda wrapped her arms around Marianne's waist with a yelp. 

"Is that really necessary?" Hilda asked.

He did not answer. Instead, he charged forward to get a running start, and then his wings swept downwards. With a mighty gust, they were airborne. Air rushed past them as they gained altitude with every downward stroke of Minty's wings. 

Hilda kept her eyes squeezed shut. Her hands firmly grasped each other around Marianne's narrow waist, and she had the side of her face pressed against Marianne's back. She could feel the tense of muscle against her cheek, but Marianne did not try to shuffle away or tell her to stop. 

It wasn't until they started to travel in a horizontal line again that Hilda dared to open her eyes and lift her head. She nudged the side of her face against Marianne’s shoulder to straighten her sunglasses. They were midway along the pack of other campers, with more than enough room to spare between each pegasus. Hilda relaxed a bit, letting loose a breath she had been holding since they took off. 

"You don't like flying," Marianne commented, and it was not a question. 

"Not really, no," Hilda said. She looked down at the ground, and admired the view far below. "I mean, I like the act of flying itself. Heights aren’t a problem. If I were flying a plane, it would be totally fine. Or a creature that wasn't, you know,  _ sentient. _ I just don't trust that a pegasus won't do something dumb just for the hell of it."

"Minty wouldn't do that," Marianne assured her.

"Yes, I would," said Minty. 

Hilda pointed at his tufted ears, which were angled back so he could eavesdrop. "Mind your business, asshole."

"You're on my back. You  _ are _ my business."

"Whatever." 

They didn't even make it back from the pavilion for the first lap. As they flew over the lake, Minty glided downwards, drifting far below the other pegasi until they were just a meter or so above the water.

"Hey, uh -" Hilda said, peering up at the other paired groups far overhead. "Why are we flying so low all of a sudden? Not that I don't appreciate standing out from the crowd, but -"

Minty did not answer. Instead, he just kicked his back legs. Hard. Hilda, who had loosened her grip around Marianne's waist, was jostled so forcefully that she didn't have time to even scramble for a better hold. She just fell right off his back and into the water.

Hitting the lake was a cold shock. Hilda struck out at the water, and swam furiously back to the surface. She gasped for air, treading water. Her sunglasses had been dislodged, and she could see the faint glimmer of them sinking into the clear blue of the water below her.

Glowering at Minty, who was flapping his wings to hover in place over her, Hilda spat against the water lapping at her chin. "Oh, you're going to pay for that. Look at my hair! And my clothes! And you made me lose  _ my axe! _ Do you know how much time I spent making -?"

Minty flapped his wings in such a way that the very tip of his longest flight feathers skimmed the surface of the water, and splashed her in the face.

"You -!" Hilda spluttered. "Asshole!"

She tried to splash him back, but missed wildly. He was too high up to reach. On the pegasus' back, Marianne was covering her mouth with one hand. She was holding back an odd, strangled noise. When it escaped from behind her hand, she quickly turned her head aside to hide her face.

She was, Hilda finally realised, laughing at her.

"Oh you think this is funny, do you?" Hilda asked.

It took Marianne a second to compose herself, and even then her answer sounded strained. "No. It's -” Marianne bit her lower lip, and her voice wobbled suspiciously. “It's terrible. What an awful thing to have happened."

"Uh-huh.” Hilda nodded at the pegasus, and said, “Minty, dump her.”

“What -?” said Marianne. 

If a pegasus could grin, then surely Minty was grinning right now. He dropped his back legs, and gave a single strong flap of his wings. Eyes wide, Marianne scrambled at his mane, but couldn’t hold on. She slowly slipped down his back, and plunged into the water a few meters away from Hilda.

Marianne’s head emerged from the water with a gasp. Her hair was plastered to the side of her face, the messy bun beginning to unfurl from its braid at the base of her neck. Hilda lifted a hand, and splashed her. Marianne sputtered. She tread water with the clumsiness of someone well and truly unaccustomed to swimming. Hilda smirked in triumph at the look of absolute shock on Marianne’s face. 

“Now who’s laughing? Huh, punk?” Hilda said.

Some indescribable expression crossed Marianne’s face. Hilda watched her go on a face journey -- bewilderment, irritation, amusement -- before landing finally on resolve. It was the most expressive Hilda had ever seen her. And it took Hilda utterly by surprise when Marianne actually splashed her back. 

“Oh, it is  _ so _ on.” 

Hilda put a bit more force behind her next splash, spraying a broad stream of lake water right at Marianne’s head. Marianne’s high pitched squeak was well worth another faceful of water pushed back at her. Minty continued to hover and watch their fight until, with Marianne’s help, Hilda managed to grab hold of one hairy pastern and drag him half into the lake. He floundered like a cat in water, flapping wildly until he was in the air once more. But by that point Hilda was laughing so hard she inhaled water and started to cough, while Marianne patted her on the back. 

When they finally made it back to shore, they were panting slightly. Marianne clambered onto the beach and sprawled on her back, with Hilda doing the same beside her. 

Breathing heavily, Hilda said towards the sky, “I told you I would take you swimming in the lake.” 

Marianne laughed aloud, then quickly covered her mouth with her hands to stifle the noise. Her eyes were still crinkled at the edges. The sight hit Hilda like a blow to the chest. Or maybe that was just heat of the sun beating down on them high overhead. 

She looked away, and tried not to think about it too hard. 

The shadow of a pegasus drifted along the ground nearby, as Seteth landed on the beach. He dismounted, and walked over to them. Arms crossed, he tilted his head. “While I am glad to see you two having such a good time, I am hard pressed to condone skipping a lesson.”

Hilda pointed towards Minty, who had landed further along, and was shaking himself off like a dog. “It’s all his fault, Your Honour. I swear it.”

“Please, do not refer to me as such. That is a very particular title reserved for other deities far outside my jurisdiction.”

In response, Hilda lowered her hand so that it was a half-hearted salute by her head. “Understood, my lord.”

Marianne made that strangled sound again. Her hand was clapped over her mouth, and her shoulders were shaking. 

With a sigh, Seteth shook his head. After they received a thoroughly tepid scolding -- which was just enough time for them to start to dry off beneath the noonday sun -- Seteth urged them back into the air to finish the lesson. Before that however, he had a few whispered words with Minty, which neither of them could overhear. Whatever he said must’ve worked though, because the pegasus behaved for the remaining hour or so.

It wasn’t until they were back at the stables that Marianne’s usual sombre air returned. It was incredibly out of place with her rumpled clothes, and the coils of hair that had slipped from their trappings and curled gently at the nape of her neck. Still, her dark eyes were warm when she offered Hilda a little wave of goodbye as they parted ways for the day. 

Hilda waved back, “See you tomorrow!”

Her hand was still held halfway in the air as she watched Marianne walk off towards the cabins. 

When someone clapped Hilda on the back, she nearly leapt out of her skin. Claude came up from behind, and draped his arm around her shoulders so they could watch Marianne glide away together.

“Good trick with the water,” he said, and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Now, we can cross Poseidon off our list.”

“Right,” she replied without any real feeling. Not once did she take her eyes off Marianne's retreating form. “Yeah, I totally meant to do that.”

Hilda half expected Marianne to turn back, to steal a glance over her shoulder. She didn’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and then plot happened. whoops.


	4. Chapter 4

The weird dream didn't go away. Which was really inconvenient, to be honest. Hilda liked sleeping as much as any other person, and these nightmares were starting to get on her nerves. Her only consolation was that they didn't happen every night. Only sometimes. But that was more than enough, thank you very much.

In her dream, her mother would offer to kill her a different way every time. Knives. Magic. Swords. Magic swords. Breaking her neck. Pulling the last breath right out of her lungs. Being hung by a diamond necklace from a myrtle tree in full summer’s bloom. And every time, Aphrodite never finished saying what was so important for Hilda to remember. 

That was, hands down, the worst part. Even worse than the dying part. Honestly, the dying part was annoying, but it got old real fast. But not getting to know why this was even happening in the first place? Abso-fucking-lutely maddening. Aphrodite would lean forward and whisper in her ear, and Hilda would wake up before she could finish delivering her warning. 

Every. Damn. Time. 

"Why are we even learning about this?" Hilda grumbled. She wore a spare set of sunglasses to try and cover the dark rings beneath her eyes. “It’s dumb. This is dumb.”

They were standing by the edge of a field, learning hunting techniques from one of the forest nymphs, who took the appearance of a young girl with the name Flayn. She was shy and willowy, with green hair and greener eyes. She was also purportedly Seteth's daughter, though Hilda couldn’t imagine which oreiad could’ve been desperate enough to get it on with a joyless busybody like Seteth. 

Beside Hilda, Claude was idly thrumming his bowstring as though it were a harp. He even managed to get a few different notes out of it somehow, though Hilda was stumped as to how he accomplished it. She didn't have any musical talent to speak of, apart from her ability to dance to anything that had a half decent tempo. 

He shrugged, only lending half an ear to what Flayn was saying to the gathered group of campers. "Supposedly it's to teach us how to tackle life's problems." 

"Um? When am I ever going to need to use this -" Hilda gestured to her bronze axe, which she was leaning upon. "-in the real world? Not that I don’t love swinging this bad boy around, but also: people are civilised now or whatever. When am I going to walk down the street and need an axe to fend off monsters?” 

Claude pointed to the axe. "Hey, I thought you lost your axe in the lake." 

"Yeah, I did. This is just one of the boring old replacements from the armoury." 

"Why didn't you equip your own axe with the return feature?" To make his point, Claude gave his bow a flick, and it transformed back into a headband. He then tossed it over his shoulder. It immediately reappeared back in his hand not a second later. "It's pretty useful." 

Hilda grumbled something under her breath. 

"What was that?" Claude asked, cupping a hand around his ear as though he hadn't heard, even though he definitely would have. 

Glowering, Hilda said, "It was either customise the sunglasses, or take the return feature." 

"And of course you chose to customise the sunglasses." 

"The original design had reflective lenses! The horrible blue-green kind that looks like a beetle shell! I couldn’t have that!" 

Claude nodded solemnly. "Tragic." 

"Oh, shut up," she snapped. She leaned back on the replacement axe, and turned her glare back upon Flayn, who was now explaining various tracking techniques. "What the hell is a _'hind'_ anyway? Is it a direction?"

On her other side, a soft familiar voice answered, "It's a deer." 

Hilda tossed up a hand in exasperation. "Well, why can't she just say 'deer'? And how do you know that?" 

Marianne was seated on the ground to Hilda's left. Her chin was resting atop her knees. She was holding her ankles in her hands, folded upon herself like an accordion. The eye almost seemed to skip over her, as though Marianne did not want to be seen. "I don't know. I just do." 

Claude leaned around Hilda, and asked, "Do you like hunting? Do you do it often?" 

He had to hide a grunt when Hilda elbowed him in the abdomen. Which was what he deserved for being so damn obvious. 

Still, Marianne only blinked languidly up at them. Her face gave away nothing. "Not really." 

"I've never seen you use a bow before. Want to try mine?" Claude continued, ignoring the way Hilda was now stepping on his foot. 

"Oh. Uh -" Marianne glanced towards Flayn, who was still pointing to a few broken leaves on the ground like it was actually supposed to mean something. "I think we're going to be doing that soon anyway." 

Indeed, there were a series of targets erected on the far end of the field behind Flayn. They were made of straw, and painted exactly the way Hilda would have expected targets to be painted. 

"I think I'll just throw this instead." Hilda kicked the flat side of her new axe. 

"Is that allowed?" Marianne asked. 

Hilda shrugged, and made an _'I don't know'_ noise. 

"At least it will come back this time," Claude said. He prodded at Hilda's shoulder with a grin. "Remember capture the flag last year?" 

Rolling her eyes, Hilda said, "That was one time." 

"And two years ago when you lost your axe to the Hippocampus that came out of the lake?" 

"A blip. A complete coincidence," Hilda insisted primly. She had taken out a small handheld mirror and was pretending to check that her lipstick was still as pristinely applied as ever. "And why is it always horse creatures that hate me? Did my mom piss off Poseidon or something?" 

"You should really just stick with the return feature on your axe, you know." 

Hilda tilted her head back and forth to inspect herself in the mirror. "And you should really cut off that braid. You’ve had it since you were - what? Eighteen?" 

Claude's hand flew to the distinctive little braid that had been woven on one side of his head. "Don't be mean to the braid, Hilda." 

Hilda snapped the mirror shut. "If you don't want to take fashion advice from a daughter of Aphrodite, that's your business. But you should know that it's a dumb business." 

"You should focus more on making sure you don't lose your third axe in three years, and less on my rakish good looks." 

Reaching up, Hilda pinched his cheek. "But just think: you could look even better." 

He gave her a lopsided grin, but did not pull his head away. "Impossible." 

"Careful," Hilda lowered her hand, only to wag her finger at him. "Or you might not be able to fit into that headband anymore." 

"Oh, ha ha." 

From the ground, Marianne watched their banter in silence. She pointed between the two of them. “Are you two -” she fished around for the right word, “- courting?”

Claude and Hilda looked at each other. And then they started laughing. 

"Oh gods." Claude leaned on his knees. "Oh, my stomach hurts."

Meanwhile Hilda leaned her elbow on his hunched back, and pushed her sunglasses up to wipe at the tears forming in her eyes. _"Courting!"_ she repeated.

It sent them into another spiral of wheezing laughter. Marianne stared at them in utter bewilderment. "Is that -" she hazarded, "- is that not the right term?"

"No, no!" Claude straightened. "It's perfect."

"Then -?"

"We're not," he said, at the same time Hilda said, "No way."

"I mean -" Claude gave Hilda a leering once-over.

She shoved his shoulder. "Stop that."

"Remember that one time four years ago behind the armoury?"

"I would rather not." Hilda readjusted her sunglasses, and turned her attention to Marianne. "We're not dating. We have never dated. We will never date."

"You wound me," said Claude.

"No, but I will."

"Not even if I cut off the braid?"

"Not even if you let me give you a full makeover," Hilda said. Then, her face brightened, and she looked at Marianne. "Speaking of makeovers -"

"Oh no," Claude said. He began gesturing to Marianne, making a slicing motion across his throat. "Run, Marianne! Save yourself!" 

In answer, Marianne gazed up at them both in confusion. "What?" 

"My brother told me that your package is finally on the way."

Marianne blinked up at her. "Package?"

"Remember? You needed some new clothes, so I gave you mine, and ordered you some others?" She waved at Marianne's clothes, which were actually her own clothes and not Marianne's at all. 

Between thumb and forefinger, Marainne worried the long sleeve of the shirt she wore. "Yes. I remember. I didn't think you were going to so much trouble to help me."

"Trouble?" Hilda blew a raspberry. "Trust me. Getting someone a new wardrobe is never trouble. It's basically my hobby."

"It really is," Claude said with a solemn nod.

"I see," said Marianne. "Thank you. I've never had much need for clothes like these in the past."

"Did you live in a hole in the ground before coming here, or something?" Hilda asked. When Marianne did not answer, Hilda hurried to correct herself. "Not that that's bad. I mean, it's fine! Completely - uh - normal." She lowered her voice and hissed. "Claude, help me."

Thankfully, he did. "I liked your dresses. But I agree with Hilda that they would be difficult to wear while performing athletic tasks at camp."

"Tasks which still don't make any sense, I would like to add," said Hilda. To prove her point, she tilted her head towards Flayn, who had moved on to the lovely topic of how to best skin wild animals and monsters, and wear their hides. Hilda made a face. _"Blech._ Fur is definitely not in this season."

"The skin of some creatures can have magical properties that ward the wearer from death's eyes," Marianne said. Then, realising what that sounded like, she ducked her head, and mumbled, "So I've heard."

"Again, when are we ever going to need to _'ward ourselves from death's eyes'?"_ Hilda asked.

"What if our parents give us a hero's task? They do that sometimes, you know," Claude countered. "What we learn here could be helpful."

Hilda snorted derisively, "Oh. Yeah. Sure. The heroic task of canoeing across a lake. Remind me: did Hercules accomplish that daunting feat of derring-do before or after he wrestled Cerberus? My memory is a little rusty."

Claude stretched the colourful headband between his hands, and put it on. "I think the canoeing part is just for fun. The monster hunting on the other hand -" he fixed his hair so that the small braid hung just so over the headband, until he looked delightfully tousled. "- probably just good practice in coordination and cooperation."

"Look," Hilda said, "I appreciate that -- I really do -- but if not for this camp, I never would've ever met any of you. Which would've been a shame, I know. But also, the majority of us could've just lived our lives with our powers among mortals, and not had any problems." 

"I don't know about you, but I don't particularly enjoy the idea of being discovered and dissected because I'm a demigod."

"Then don't join the Olympic archery team, and you'll be fine."

Claude snapped his fingers as if coming to a sudden realisation. "Right. I’ll be sure to remember that next time I’m on the run for being the freak whose car-crash injuries heal overnight, when the collision killed everyone else involved.”

Silence stretched between them for a very long, very uncomfortable moment. 

"I'm sorry," Hilda said with a grimace. "I didn't mean -"

But he merely waved her away. "I know you didn't."

Hilda's stomach twisted with guilt. It was an unpleasant feeling, like she had swallowed a nest of live snakes. "I just don't see how learning all of this could have even helped. What could you have done differently then with the skills you have now? Shot an arrow at the other car?"

He shrugged. His arms were crossed, and he favoured studying Flayn rather than look in Hilda's direction. "Maybe. I'll never know. But I like to think this is somehow worth while. Why else would so many immortals put so much time and effort into training us, unless there was a purpose?"

"To keep us out of mischief?" Hilda said, trying to wheedle a smile out of him. "I wasn't lying when I said it would've been a shame not knowing everyone. I do like you guys. I mean -" she corrected herself, "-not enough to, like, throw myself in front of a dragon for you. But I'll be your wingman!"

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Claude's mouth. He looked at her askance. "To think I was prepared to die heroically for you, and you wouldn't do the same," he drawled.

Hilda scoffed. "Dying for someone else is dumb. It defeats the whole point."

And then from the sidelines, Marianne said, "Death isn't so bad."

Hilda turned to look at Marianne with an incredulous grin. "And you know that because you've died sooo many times, right?"

For a moment Marianne did not respond, until finally she mumbled, "No. Not exactly."

Hilda held out her arms as though to an audience. "I rest my case."

The other campers were starting to mill about now. Claude nudged Hilda with his elbow, and jerked his head towards the targets. "Looks like it's time for archery. Mind if I take over?"

In answer, Hilda plopped down beside Marianne, and leaned back on her elbows. "An opportunity for me to not do anything? Like you even need to ask."

"Great." Claude took off his headband. With an expert twist of his wrist, it extended into an elegantly curved bow. The surface had been carved with all manner of hunting motifs and scenes from ancient mythology. He held out the bow to Marianne with an encouraging smile. "Would you do me the honours?"

Still curled up on the ground, Marianne glanced over at Hilda in a silent question.

"Why are you looking at me?" Hilda asked.

"Well, I -" Marianne's voice trailed off. "I don't know."

Rather than lift her arm, Hilda gestured with her foot towards Claude and the targets. "It's your choice. You don't have to shoot if you don't want to. But -- and I don't say this lightly -- he is really very good with the bow. So, if you want lessons, he's the guy."

Claude swept a hand over his heart as though in fealty. "I swear I will only be the utmost gentleman."

While Hilda rolled her eyes, Marianne seemed convinced. "Alright."

Marianne unfolded herself. She patted off bits of grass stuck to her long track pants when she stood, and allowed herself to be led a few strides away. Hilda crossed her legs at the ankles, and watched.

Claude handed Marianne his bow, which she took gingerly, as though afraid she might break it. When she stepped up to the line drawn onto the grass however, she held the bow with an unquestionable familiarity. Other pairs were doing the same all along the line, while Flayn strode behind them, keeping watch with that gentle gaze of hers.

From this distance, Hilda could just overhear Claude's instructions. He directed Marianne with a mix of clarity and humour. At one point, he even managed to get her to make that soft choked noise at the back of her throat, which meant she was trying to stop herself from laughing aloud. He handed her an arrow. When Marianne drew it smoothly back to her cheek, he held up his hands for her to hold that position. 

Hilda's eyebrows shot up over the rim of her sunglasses, as she watched Claude touch Marianne's elbow to reposition her arm slightly. Even more shockingly, Marianne did not flinch away, or tell him to stop. Though her shoulders tensed, and her dark eyes flickered like a nervous animal backed into a corner. 

Sensing her discomfort, he stepped away, and made a gesture for her to fire. Marianne released the arrow. It streaked across the pitch, and buried itself firmly in the target. Not in the bullseye or anything flashy like that. But still. On the target. Which was better than Hilda could have done. 

Claude clapped effusively. Cheeks pink, Marianne lowered the bow. Hilda could hear her making demurring noises, insisting that the praise was Claude's for being a patient teacher and expert marksman. 

Raising her voice, Hilda said, "Accept the praise, Marianne!"

At that, Marianne ducked her head. She glanced over her shoulder. If Hilda didn't know better, she might have thought she saw a slight smile on Marianne's face. As though she were secretly pleased with herself, but didn't want anyone to notice. 

Which, of course, was an open invitation for Hilda to offer even more raucous praise when Marianne hit the target again. 

"Miss Goneril," said a voice to the side.

Shielding her face from the sun with the flat of her hand, Hilda looked up to find Flayn standing over her. "Yo! What's up?"

Flayn held herself with a poise that Hilda could only dream of; the perks of being fully immortal, probably. Her voice was light and deceptively girlish. It was an uncanny contrast to her eyes, which were ancient in the same way her father's were. "Is there some reason why you're not also participating?"

Hilda took off her sunglasses so that more of her face could be seen as she widened her eyes, and said plaintively, "There's an odd number of people today, and I don't have a partner. I was just waiting to trade off with Claude and Marianne."

Charmspeak wove itself in the air like an invisible tapestry, each strand hung from Hilda's words. It settled like a net over Flayn, who blinked. Briefly her expression slackened, only for her to shake her head as though she had just walked into a spider's web. Her brows drew down in a disapproving slant. "That is quite distracting, you know."

"Sorry," Hilda made a face. "Force of habit. Did it almost work though?"

"Almost," Flayn smiled gently. Hilda had never known her to ever actually get mad before. 

"Do you think if I practice more, it will work on your dad?"

Flayn laughed, and the sound was like a breeze over the first buds of spring. "That would be a lot of practice, I think."

Swinging her sunglasses around between her fingers, Hilda smirked. "Want to help?"

"I don't see why charmspeak is even necessary. You have already successfully distracted me from scolding you for being lazy."

Hilda pouted, lacing the air with magic again. "Please?"

Flayn had to shake the charmspeak off before she relented. "Oh, very well." She sat beside Hilda, her feet neatly tucked up beneath her legs. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "But don't tell my father. He would be so cross."

Hilda made a locking motion with her hand, as if twisting a key at her mouth. 

While the other students practised archery, Hilda spent the next hour or so trying to charm a dryad older than the mountains. By the end, Marianne was consistently hitting near the bullseye, and Hilda had just about convinced Flayn the sky was pink. It was almost a lesson that Hilda didn't want to end so soon. Almost.

"Well, I must admit," Flayn said, rising gracefully to her feet and smiling at Hilda. "This has been very entertaining."

"Will you tell your dad about how amazingly hospitable I am?" Hilda asked.

Flayn hummed thoughtfully. "I think he already knows." She tilted her head back to study the scattering of puffy white clouds above them. "Still blue. But I think there's a rosy hue. Keep up the good work."

And with that, she started walking off, lifting her voice to deliver instructions to the group on cleaning up for the afternoon. Hilda put her sunglasses back on just as Claude and Marianne were returning to her spot. Claude was resting his hand on Marianne's shoulder, and she only seemed timid rather than tense at the contact. 

"Well, well, well," Hilda tilted her head to the side to study their approach. "Aren't you two getting on like a house on fire."

Claude winked at her, then lowered his hand after giving Marianne's shoulder a friendly squeeze. "She's a natural. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was a daughter of Apollo."

Rather than contest that idea, Marianne handed the bow back to him. "I'm sorry again. I didn't mean to -"

Claude took the bow, and tapped his tongue against the back of his teeth in an admonishing manner. “I told you, I actually kind of like it this way.” 

The smooth bone-carved handle gleamed. What had once been pale ashen bone was now streaked with gold in the shape of a handprint, as though Marianne had gripped it too hard and it had bled gold. 

With a gesture, he turned the bow back into the garishly coloured headband, except now it had a broad length of cloth-of-gold running through the fabric like splotches of paint. He put it on, then turned to Hilda, and pretended to pose as though for a camera. “What do you think? Pretty good, right?”

She hummed thoughtfully, and tapped at her chin. “Actually, I have to admit: it is a bit of an improvement.”

Marianne ducked her head, mumbled some excuse about wanting to get lunch even though Hilda rarely ever saw her actually eat, thanked Claude again, apologised (again), and then drifted off in the exact opposite direction of the dining pavilion. Claude watched her go. He waved jovially, but something keen glinted in his eyes, like he had just recognised a person on the street.

Hilda waited until Marianne was well and truly out of earshot, before asking, "Why do you look so smug?"

But Claude merely smiled. "Oh, no reason. No reason at all." His smile broadened. “See you at capture the flag tomorrow.”

* * *

The day of capture the flag, the sky was dark with summer rain. Hilda held her blue-crested helm between her hands, and stared up at the sky. 

"It's going to rain. This sucks," she whined, then repeated more emphatically, "This _sucks."_

Marianne hummed in agreement, which was more than she had done even a week ago. A week ago, she would have just stood there in complete silence, letting Hilda fill up every nook and cranny of space. Now, she made herself known with small comments and gestures and noises. She even attempted to smile, when Lysithea handed over a helmet that was identical to everyone else on their team. 

Turning over the helmet in her hands, Marianne asked, "If we are expecting a battle, why don't we wear other armour."

"It's more to just tell the two teams apart," Lysithea explained. She put her own helmet on, the blue crest of horse-hair nodding as she did so. "We don't actually hurt each other."

"Usually," Hilda added. 

"Usually," Lysithea agreed. 

Still, Marianne did not put the helmet on. Neither did Hilda, to be fair. But Hilda was avoiding the dreaded helmet hair that would accompany it. 

The two teams were gathered at the edge of the forest, where Seteth, Flayn, Manuela, and Hanneman all waited for them. Hilda spied Claude on the other team, already wearing his red-crested helm, and taking point from Dimitri, who addressed the Ares-led group. Claude spotted her watching him, and he winked. Hilda made a rude gesture with her fingers, which only made him laugh.

"Can we please refrain from fraternising with the enemy until after the competition?" said Edelgard at the fore of their own team. 

"Sorry," said Hilda, not sorry at all.

With a sigh, Edelgard shook her head. Then, she lifted her voice, and addressed the Athena-led team. "All of you know the rules, so -"

Marianne raised her hand.

"Yes?" said Edelgard.

Marianne lowered her hand, and said, "I don't know the rules."

"Hilda didn't explain them to you?"

When Marianne shook her head, Hilda did her best to look sheepish. It wasn't difficult. She felt rather sheepish, to be perfectly honest. 

"Sorry," said Hilda.

With one last glare in Hilda's direction, Edelgard said to Marianne, "Don't let the opposing team take our flag. Try to take the opposing team’s flag. Use any reasonable force necessary, but try not to kill anyone. Stick to your group, and stick to the plan. And for all our sakes, stick to the range as set out by Seteth and the others. The professors will be the judges.They’ll be walking around key boundaries. Don't go wandering too far into the forest. Remember what happened last time?"

At that, a disgruntled murmur spread throughout the large group of campers. 

"What happened last time?" Marianne asked Hilda in a low voice.

"Some idiot stumbled across a dragon's lair. It went badly." Hilda said, inspecting her eyeliner in the mirror shine of her helm. "That's how Dimitri lost his eye. Poor bastard."

Indeed, Dimitri still wore a patch over said eye. Magic and ambrosia could only do so much. Especially against wounds inflicted by other magical creatures and beasts. 

"Any other questions?" Edelgard looked at Marianne, who shook her head. "Excellent. And good luck out there. Just remember -" and her lilac gaze went hard as iron. "- defeat is not an option."

As the group began to split up and head into the forest, Hilda sighed. "Sometimes I worry about that girl. Like, doesn't she get that this is a game?"

"Is it?" Marianne asked quietly.

"Well -" Hilda hesitated. She thought about it, then decided she really didn't want to think about it. Instead, she finally shoved the helmet onto her head. "Anyway. Let's go."

Marianne followed suit. She put her helm on. Hilda had been right. Blue did look good on her. In the track pants and long-sleeved shirt however, the helm looked a bit silly.

As they crossed the first row of trees, Hilda could feel a set of eyes upon her. She glanced over her shoulder to find Seteth watching her intently. She flashed him a grin, but received nothing in return. For someone acting as one of the judges in this competition, his dedication to impartiality was admirable. But really, did he have to be so damn stiff? Relax. Live a little. 

Between Edelgard and Seteth, Hilda had to shrug off a bad feeling about this competition. To add insult to injury, she could have sworn she felt the first speck of rain. 

"Which way are we going?" Marianne asked.

Drawing her axe, which had been disguised as a boring old pen in her pocket, Hilda used it to point. "That way. Us two are guarding the flag, while everyone else does whatever Edelgard and Lysithea told them to do."

"Alright." 

It did not take long for the other groups to be swallowed up by the woods. The trees clustered thickly all around. The air was darker and heavier here, and grew even more so the further they pushed ahead. 

After a while of tramping along, Marianne had another question, "Why us?"

"Hmm?" 

"Guarding the flag is important, right? I'm assuming Edelgard had a reason for picking us."

Hilda shrugged. "Probably. I don't think we'll ever really know why Edelgard does what she does. Maybe we're the best suited for the job. Maybe there are only two people allowed to guard the flag at any one point in time. Maybe she doesn't know where to put you in a bigger team, because you're new here. Or maybe I just complain if I get put out into the field to do more work. Who knows." 

"It sounds like you know."

"It's a mystery," Hilda insisted. 

"I really don't think it is."

They reached a clearing in the trees, surrounded by dense underbrush. Here, the vegetation gave way to a near perfect circle that extended nearly twenty meters in every direction. The area was demarcated by a ring of white-capped mushrooms. Hilda was very careful not to step on one as she entered the clearing. She could almost taste the nature magic emanating off of them. 

In the centre of the clearing, a bronze spear had been stuck in the ground, and a blue flag trailed from it like a military standard. On the flag had been stitched the insignia of every cabin on their team. 

Immediately, Hilda crossed over to it. At the base of the spear, she slammed her axe into the ground so that the head was half buried and would remain upright on its own. Then she flopped onto the ground beside it. She sprawled her legs, and sighed up at the sky.

"The rest of the forest won't get any rain, except for us. Figures," she grumbled.

Marianne drifted closer. In her own hand, she held a basic armour sword of Celestial bronze, not unlike Hilda's own weapon. "Aren't we supposed to be guarding the flag?"

Hilda gestured towards the flag, which hung just over her head. "Here's the flag. And here we are. It's guarded."

Uncertain, Marianne glanced towards the edge of the clearing. "What if someone comes?"

"Then we tell them to go away."

"Hilda, be serious."

"I am being serious!"

"I have never known you to be serious."

"Now, that's just rude. I bet I'm the most serious person you've ever met."

At that, Marianne bit down on her lower lip to keep from laughing. She turned her head aside to hide a smile.

"What?" Hilda asked, placing a hand over her heart as though insulted. "You don't believe me? Name someone with more gravitas."

Marianne's voice sounded strained, as though she were trying to keep it level. "I can think of a few people."

When Marianne couldn't stop the corner of her mouth curling up in a smile, Hilda grinned at her. "That's more like it." She patted the ground beside her. "Come on. Sit. Relax."

Folding her legs, Marianne crouched down so that they sat, side by side. They were close enough that when Hilda leaned back, her arm brushed against the fabric of Marianne's sleeve. A week ago Marianne would have shuffled away. Now, she stayed put. 

Hilda cocked her head. "Are you having fun?"

That seemed to puzzle Marianne. "The forest is nice, I guess."

"No, I mean -- are you enjoying camp half-blood?"

"Oh." Marianne used the tip of her sword to draw patterns in the soft earth. She took a while to think about her answer, before she said, "Yes. I think so. It's nicer than home in many ways."

"What's home like?"

Marianne went very quiet. She continued to sketch shapes in the dirt with her sword. Little swirls and peaks, like mountains. Or perhaps flames. "It's full of people," she finally said. "But it's lonely. Not like here."

"Do you miss it?"

Marianne shrugged. "Sometimes."

Humming contemplatively, Hilda said, "I felt that way when I first came here." When Marianne shot her an incredulous look over her shoulder, Hilda insisted, "It's true! I mean, I'm great at making friends and getting to know people, but it still takes time. You only warmed up to me after a few weeks, and I was already friends with people. Think of how long it would've taken me to make friends in a place where I knew absolutely nobody."

"A few hours, I imagine," Marianne replied dryly.

"At least!"

Marianne snorted. Then her head jerked up; she frowned in the direction of the trees. "Someone's coming."

Hilda did not move. A few fat raindrops began to fall intermittently from the sky. It wouldn't be long now until it started to rain in earnest. A warm summer rain. With lightning most likely. Hilda almost wished she had packed a poncho, if ponchos weren't so awful to look at.

"Hilda -?"

"I heard you," Hilda said. She rose to her feet, brushing a few leaves from her legs. Just as she tugged her axe free from the ground, she heard voices through the underbrush.

Marianne stood as well. She remained a step behind Hilda, letting her take point. The voices grew a bit louder, and a minute later, three people wearing red-crested helms stepped into the clearing. 

Shouldering her axe, Hilda waved. "Hey, Caspar! Raphael! Ignatz! So good of you to join us!"

The three approached, Caspar leading the other two. He grinned, and gave a mocking salute with one hand. "Hi, Hilda! We've got you outnumbered. Want to make this easy, and just hand over that flag there?"

"Oh, you mean this?" Hilda jerked her thumb over her shoulder towards the flag. The drops of rain had strengthened into a drizzle. Hilda tapped at her chin as though thinking very hard about a complicated maths problem, until she said in a cheery tone, "Nope! I have a much better idea."

Ignatz had stopped at the edge of the clearing, but Raphael and Caspar continued their advance. Raphael's knuckles were sheathed in bronze gauntlets with wicked talons on the ends, while Caspar carried an axe even larger than Hilda's. 

If anything Caspar's smile only widened at the prospect of a fight. "Oh, yeah? What's the plan?"

Behind him, Ignatz was nocking an arrow into his bow. Hilda tsked, shaking her head, and wagged a finger in his direction. "Down, boy."

Charmspeak laced through the air. Without hesitation, Ignatz lowered his bow. 

Frowning, Caspar looked over his shoulder, then did a double take. "Ignatz! What are you doing? Shoot them!"

But Ignatz's eyes were glazed behind his thick round spectacles. He did not react to being addressed by his team leader. 

"Don’t be rude, Ignatz. You heard the man!" Hilda said. She pointed at Caspar and Raphael, and said, "Shoot them!"

Immediately, Ignatz drew his bow back, aiming at his friends. His arrow narrowly missed, deflected by Caspar’s axe. Both Caspar and Raphael whirled about, torn between who to face. They set their backs against one another. 

"Oh, would you look at that!" Hilda gasped in faux surprise. "You're outnumbered! And surrounded, I would like to add. So, hows about you just -" she snapped her fingers with a beaming smile, "- give up, and go away?"

Baring his teeth, Caspar lowered his stance. "I still like my odds."

"Don't worry. I'll fix that, too." Hilda looked at the hulking man at his side. "Oh, Raphael!" she said in a sing-song tone.

Caspar whirled around to his only remaining teammate. "Plug your ears, Raphael! Don't listen to her!"

Hilda continued to speak over him, weaving a tapestry of charmspeak with every syllable. "Raphael, doesn’t an early dinner sound just too amazing to resist?”

Raphael’s tawny eyes went unfocused. Slowly, he lowered his fists, his broad shoulders relaxing. “Yeah,” he said in a dazed tone. “Yeah, food sounds really good right now.”

“You know,” Hilda said, “If everyone else is out here in the woods, then there’s nobody in line at the dining pavilion!”

His expression brightened, and he started heading towards the treeline. 

“Don’t forget to take Ignatz with you!” Hilda called after him.

In response, Raphael picked up Ignatz -- who was still pointing an arrow at Caspar -- and carried him away. 

Hilda waved after them until the rain and trees obscured their figures, then turned her bright smile upon Caspar. “You’re so cute when you’re mad.”

Furious, Caspar took out his frustrations by chopping at a nearby tree trunk with his axe a few times. Typical child of Ares behaviour. Hilda inspected her nails while she waited for his little tantrum to be finished. She had a microscopic chip in her nailpolish. She would need to repaint them this evening. 

Finally Caspar rounded on her. His face was bright red and streaked with rain. “Fight me anyway!”

“Mmmm…Nah,” said Hilda, still inspecting her nails. 

“Is this a good idea?” Marianne asked at her side. “He looks really angry.”

“See, now, that’s the thing.” Hilda waggled her fingers towards Marianne’s sword. “If you fight him, then he wins. Even when he loses, he wins.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” Caspar shouted.

Which, of course, meant Hilda kept talking about him like he wasn’t there. “Caspar loves fighting, but he won’t fight you unless you fight him. So, the only way to win is to not fight at all.” She pretended to lower her voice to a whisper, knowing full well that he could still hear her. “He hates it _so much.”_

At that, Caspar kicked at the ground, sending a spray of dirt towards them. With a great, wordless cry of frustration, he stomped off after Raphael and Ignatz. 

Hilda called after him, “Hey! Tell Dimitri to send someone good next time!” 

“Fuck you, Hilda!” 

“Maybe later! Bye bye, now!” 

When Caspar, too, had left, Marianne turned to Hilda. “I see now why Edelgard puts you in charge of guarding the flag.”

“You’re here, too,” Hilda pointed out. 

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Sure you did. You have the most important job of all!”

Marianne’s expression was dubious. “Which is -?”

“Making sure I don’t get bored, and abandon my post in favour of going to the arts and crafts centre. Which I may have done in past years. I refuse to incriminate myself.” 

Something rustled in the trees again. Hilda squinted through the rain. She had to wipe at the brim of the helmet, clearing the drizzle that unspooled in front of her face. Beside her Marianne peered in the same direction, though where Hilda hefted her axe, Marianne's hand remained slack around the hilt of her sword of Celestial bronze. 

Hilda raised her voice to call out, "We know you're out there! How about you make it easy for everyone, and just lay down your weapons! Or maybe just go away! That would be really great! Thanks!" 

More shuffling. The low branches and foliage of the shrubbery wavered back and forth. Then, a deer burst through the trees. Hilda yelped in surprise, and the deer bounded away. She clutched at her chest with one hand to calm the racing of her heart. 

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she grumbled after the deer. 

"It wasn't alone," Marianne said softly. 

Marianne nodded towards the trees where the deer had appeared. This time, there was absolute silence. No shuffling or rustling at all. And yet, Claude stepped into the clearing as though he were out on an evening stroll in his garish gold-streaked headband, and bright yellow t-shirt. His bow was in his hands. He glanced in their direction. When Hilda opened her mouth to speak, he raised a single finger to his lips, and shook his head. 

Instead of speaking, Hilda rolled her eyes and mouthed at him, _"What are you doing?"_

In answer, Claude gestured for her to come over to him. He then pointed to where the deer had vanished into the woods. Hilda did not move. She watched that place. And watched. And watched. 

Nothing happened. 

This time, she spoke aloud, "Alright, if this is some kind of trap, I am not falling for it." 

He made a slicing motion at his neck for her to be quiet, then strung his bow with a bronze-tipped arrow, backing away. 

“Yeah. Still not falling for it.”

"Hilda -" 

"Not now, Marianne. He's trying to trick us into abandoning the flag, or something. I mean, it's a stupid trick. Which is weird. He's normally cleverer than that, but -" 

Marianne grasped her arm, and that was enough for Hilda to fall silent. She looked over only to find that Claude had vanished from the clearing. Meanwhile, the place he had pointed to was growing dark. As though night were falling before its time. Shadows gathered beneath the boughs and between the trees, and not even the rain could pierce it. 

And then one of the shadows stepped forward. 

Marianne's hand tightened on Hilda's arm. Her face looked even more pale. She took a trembling step back. "Is that supposed to be here?"

“No. No it definitely isn’t.” 

The shadow sloped slowly forward with the grace of a great cat. It stepped on one of the mushrooms, crushing it and its magic underfoot. It had too many legs. Its eyes burned a dull coal-red, and smoke slithered in its footsteps. No sooner had it emerged, than another followed in its wake. And another. And another. Their muzzles dripped with something other than rain. One of them still carried in its jaws the haunch of the deer, which it dropped at the edge of the clearing. 

"Oh," Hilda breathed, _"shit."_

Marianne had let go of Hilda's arm and taken another step back, and Hilda was right there with her. The pack followed them with lidless eyes, each enormous head turning to watch their retreat. Every fibre of Hilda's bones -- down to the marrows -- was screaming for her to run, to turn tail and sprint until her lungs burned and her legs gave way. Until the sun could wash over the land, and burn away the foul stench of sulphur that preceded the shadows like a fog. 

Hilda shoved that tiny screaming miniature version of herself away, and instead tightened her grip upon her axe. Her hands were sweaty upon the hilt. The distance between her, Marianne, and the shadows was shrinking, but at a certain point the shadows stopped approaching. Darkness swirled all around the edges of the clearing like mist. 

"Whatever you do," Marianne murmured, and her voice trembled slightly, "don't look away from them." 

Without thinking, Hilda glanced over her shoulder at Marianne. "What? Why -?" 

"No, don't -!" 

There was a flash of darkness that stirred the air, and when Hilda looked back around, one of the creatures loomed over her. It was not rearing back on its hind legs. It did not need to. It was massive enough that it could loom without trying. Hilda only jerked her axe up in time to knock the creature's head aside, so that she did not lose a limb. The Celestial bronze cut a pale glowing mark into the shadow, and it snarled in fury. 

"Fuck," Hilda swore. "Shit fuck." 

She staggered back with another wild swing, as teeth snapped near her head. This was bad. This was very bad. Her inner thoughts were a constant stream of frantic swearing, as she hacked and slashed with the best of her abilities. No sooner had she made one of the shadows back off, than another took its place. They circled around her with bared teeth like tarnished silver, snapping and growling, so that she could never quite get her bearings before she had to swing around once more to fend off another. 

"Hey, back off, already!" Hilda said, and her voice cracked in fear. The charmspeak rolled over them, and for a split second the creatures hesitated, only for their eyes to burn bright as though searing the very magic away. 

One of the shadows lunged. Cursing loudly, profusely, and elegantly, Hilda brought her axe down hard enough that it sliced through the thing's damn neck. The creature's head continued to shriek even as it dissolved on the ground at her feet. In horror, Hilda watched while the shadow twitched and swung its body back and forth as though merely blinded.

Another tried to bite her around the stomach, but from the trees there came a dart of bronze. The creature jerked back as a bronze-tipped arrow found its mark, sticking out of its eye and smoking there as though it were a white-hot iron. 

Hilda wrenched around. Claude waved at her from the safety of a nearby tree, then nocked another arrow. Hilda swung her axe at another shadow, and yelled at him, "If I die, I am going to be really pissed off, Claude!" 

His answer was another arrow sticking into the creature to her right. It snapped at her ankles, and she had to snatch her foot back to avoid losing it entirely. "Marianne, are you -?" 

But when Hilda looked around, Marianne was no longer beside her. The creatures had her completely surrounded and alone. In a panic, Hilda gave one of them a good smack with her axe, and it squealed like a kicked dog when one of its many legs was cut off. Still, it did not die. It only began to limp. But it meant that Hilda could actually see over it. 

Marianne was standing near the flag. Watching. Her shoulders were hunched. Her cheeks blanched. Her sword had been dropped to the ground as though discarded. 

Hilda swung her axe again to fend off another attack. She called out, "You can help me any day now!" 

Marianne's mouth moved, but no sound came out. She took a trembling step back, and shook her head. "I -" she choked out. "I can't. I'm sorry. I can't -" 

"What do you mean: _you_ _can’t?!"_

When one of the beasts clawed the air, Hilda was forced to stagger back or risk disembowelment, which was not high up on her to do list. It knocked her axe aside, so as to close its teeth around the hilt and wrench the weapon from her hands. She clung on for dear life, toppling sideways onto the ground, and landing in the disembodied head of the one she had decapitated.

Her hand fell right through the shadow as if it were made of liquid. Hilda continued to grapple over her axe, but stopped when she felt something cold begin to creep up her arm. 

Veins of shadow were branching towards her shoulder. Panic lanced through her, and her grip slackened on the axe enough for the beast to tear it from her hand. There were only three of the creatures still upright, their flanks protruding with a forest of arrows and gouges from Hilda's axe. The fourth had dissolved into a twitching mass of darkness on the ground. 

Panic quickly rose to terror. Hilda reached over with her free hand to squeeze her upper arm in an attempt to staunch the flow of icy shadow up her arm, while the remaining three beasts descended upon her. 

She closed her eyes, curled up into a ball on the ground, and waited for teeth and claws to tear into her. But that moment never came.

"Leave her alone."

Like a kid peering through their fingers at a horror film, Hilda slowly opened her eyes. Marianne was standing beside her. From this angle, Hilda could see the underside of her clenched jaw, and the way her fists shook. 

The beasts backed away a step. They seemed to be weighing their chances. They looked from Marianne to Hilda, and took a step forward. Obviously, they liked their odds. 

Something flickered across Marianne's face, like steel plates settling into place. With one hand she reached up to the pendant at her neck, and tugged it free from the white ribbon from which it was strung. As she extended her arm, it seemed that she was slowly drawing a sword from her chest. Its handle was bone. Its crossguard the golden shape of the original pendant. Its blade was curved and utterly, purely black. Black as a nightmare. 

In one smooth motion, Marianne swept the sword downward. It arced, and left behind the faint stench of burning ozone, as though its edge had cut through the very air molecules. She brought it down upon the nearest beast, as easily as if brushing aside a cobweb. 

Whereas the Celestial bronze of Hilda and Claude's weapons had bled the beasts a searing white, Marianne's blade left behind a cut that revealed nothing but darkness. The beast's hide split open, and a wind stirred. The blade absorbed the shadows within until not an inch of the creature remained. 

"LEAVE HER ALONE." 

Marianne's words were not loud; they were substantial. As though every letter she spoke were engraved upon stone, etched into a memorial that would weather the millennia beyond mortal ken. 

Immediately, the last two beasts stopped in their tracks. They lowered their heads and their great hulking shoulders, until they lay upon the ground before her. Like trained dogs. Hilda even swore she could see their ears flattened back, as though they had been admonished by an angry master. 

Slowly, Marianne turned. Hilda had to resist the urge to scramble back. Marianne's eyes had gone black. Black as night. Black as the blade in her grasp. Thunder rolled in the distance, but the rain seemed to melt away before ever reaching her. And over Marianne's head, a pale flame burned in the shape of a bident, curved like a broken halo, or perhaps like horns. She cast a shadow that blotted out the sky. Behind her the beasts awaited her command, twin hellhounds with eyes like a dying furnace. 

She knelt before Hilda, and held out her hand. This time when Marianne spoke, her voice sounded normal. Well, that wasn’t true. It sounded kind of echo-y. But more normal than before.

"May I -?"

It took Hilda a moment to realise what Marianne was referring to. The cold shadow had reached her shoulder, and was now winding its way up the side of her neck like a plague. Hilda nodded, but still she winced when Marianne took her infected hand in her own.

Her eyes were still black. She did not seem to need to blink. The air around her continued to hum with energy. It made a shiver race down Hilda's spine, as though someone had just walked across her grave. Marianne grasped her hand, and her touch drew the darkness out like a poison until nothing but pure, warm, unblemished skin was left behind. 

"I knew it."

Both Hilda and Marianne turned to look towards the edge of the clearing. Claude held their flag in one hand, and his bow in the other. He was beaming in triumph. 

“I’ve won. And now,” He gestured with the flag towards Marianne. “I also know what you are. You're not one of the Demeter kids. You’re a child of Hades. You're a daughter of Death." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Shoutout to Terry Pratchett’s Death who talks in all caps.
> 
> 2) I keep on meaning to put the makeover scene in, but these chapters have been so long that the scene keeps getting postponed. Definitely next chapter though. Definitely.
> 
> 3) seeing as it's the holidays soon, I don't know what my updating schedule will be like. We'll see how we get on.
> 
> 4) also I ship Hilda with basically everyone, so while I had her and Claude laugh at the idea of dating, they have definitely at least made out once and that's that

**Author's Note:**

> 1) The title is a reference to “A Study in Scarlet.” Not that there’s any murder in this story, just to allude that there is a mystery
> 
> 2) This AU does not perfectly follow the Percy Jackson world. It just takes some of the main ideas from it. eg/ the Titan Wars are over, and many Titans (such as Seteth) have successfully integrated with the rest. And yes I know that if the Hades cabin is there, I should include the others to make up the full twenty. But I’m lazy.
> 
> 3) None of the Percy Jackson characters will be making an appearance. It’s just the FE crew here


End file.
